Genius in the Puzzle
by Blue eyes Red heart
Summary: Sherlock is hired to find a missing girl that turns up on the brink of madness. A Hermione and Sherlock story, with Harry as concerned nanny and Draco Malfoy as suspect number one.
1. Chapter 1

**Genius in the puzzle**

It was shocking that Sherlock showed up to Mycroft's office with invitation. Britain must be impending danger. Mycroft eyed his baby brother who sat straight backed looking around his office like it was an aquarium of little interest.

"Don't bore me." Sherlock states motioning for John to take the seat beside him. John did so with far less flare than what Sherlock would pull off as Mycroft's pretty assistant walked in, like a jack rabbit John jolted out of his seat standing like a gentleman- his attention on the beautiful brunette missing Sherlock's smirk.

"Sit down, John." Sherlock instructed, pulling at the doctor's coat, John obeys his attention staying on the woman. The brunette swept her hair off her shoulder and looked timidly to Sherlock. "I need your help, Mr. Holmes." She request standing like a lady with her hands folded in front of her.

"You are both acquainted with my assistant." Mycroft announces, the formality his statement was not a question but both men answer in unison.

"Yes."

"Athena, whatever it is I assure you we can help." John declares, ever the chivalric soldier, even as a married man and expecting father.

"Athena? John, this is Cassandra, if Mycroft is the British government, she is its eyes and ears. I'm still waiting to meet its brain." Sherlock jokes, John can't hold back the snicker placing his fist over his mouth and looking away.

"As you obviously know I have a wide interlocking network of surveillance not just nationwide but globally. Several months ago my sister went missing. There have been no signs of her since. No ransom letter, no activity of any kind to indicate she has left the country. She simply vanished." Cassandra explained.

"Your network far exceeds my own, I'm not sure what you expect me to do." Sherlock lied he just wanted them to say it, clearly his interest was piqued.

"Mycroft won't let me use ministry employees for foot work, even with my own funds. I have tried to investigate on my time off but no one will talk to me. I need help. I need someone that can blend in that has contacts. I need to know what happened to her. I have talked to her friends and they too have tried to help, but there is one person that won't talk to anyone and he was one of the last people to see my sister before she vanished." Cassandra explained.

"Name." Sherlock asked rudely.

"His name is Draco Malfoy, he just recently took over his father's private law firm and has been gaining clients from parliament and the royal family. He is a snake. Manipulative and unscrupulous, my sister went to school with him, they never got on." Cassandra stated with very little emotion considering the situation.

"Estranged?" Sherlock spoke looking to Cassandra- it was clearly a question.

"I don't..." she began before Sherlock interrupted.

"Your sister has been missing several months- several entails at least seven months, your resources take time to muddle through but not seven months. So either you recently found out she was missing, two weeks top- or you are horrible at your job. Mycroft keeps you around so I assume you and your sister are estranged." Sherlock explains impatiently.

"Estranged…yes, I faked my death when I joined the magistracy. I am thirteen years older than her, I'm sure she barley remembers me, she was little more than a baby last time she saw me." Cassandra confirmed.

Sherlock simply nodded. "But you kept an eye on her just the same. So she is what seventeen?… eighteen? She graduated from school early or late birthday." Sherlock thinks out loud. "Where did she work?"

"She didn't, took classes by post while in the private school our parents sent her to, after graduation she was taking university classes on line. She graduated early… after our parents died all she had was friend- kept to herself. She is a smart girl." Cassandra explained.

"So how does a smart girl vanish from a crowded room?" the detective asks.

"How did you know it was a crowded room?" Cassandra asked clearly surprised he knew that.

"Because a smart girl does not meet up with strangers in secluded areas and a smart girl does not leave a crowded room unless it's with someone she trust." Sherlock concludes.

"You think she knew who took her?" Cassandra asked clearly not having anticipated such a theory.

"Your sister defiantly knew her attacker, what is your sister's name?" Sherlock asked flipping the collar of his coat up. Clearly he was taking the case.

"Hermione Granger."

"Give John the boy's information." Sherlock instructs heading for the door.

"Sorry he does that. Of course you two know that don't you." John explains handing his phone to Cassandra so she can type in this Malfoy bloke's info in his GPS.

**Psychopath vs Sociopath**

The building was impractical, the massive glass structure among the brick and cobble of historical London. This was not a building that Sherlock was familiar with and he knew London like the back of his hand if not better. This building was new, recently added only it didn't look new it looked to be built in the early nineties with its architectural style and modern open glass décor.

The receptionist is a repulsive toad like woman dressed in fluffy bubble gum pink, her voice is too feminine to belong to such a creature, but when she clears her throat for the third time while looking for the appointment they do not have with Mr. Malfoy, Sherlock excuses himself to the loo. Leaving John who is eyeing a candy tray with extreme interest.

Sherlock does not go to the loo, he helps himself snooping around the building. All the outer walls are glass, the inner structure is made out of imported black Italian marble. The floors are pristine, waxed hourly (only logical explanation), they too are made of the same imposing black marble. The moldings are traditional modern inspired with green and silver detailing. Every handle on every door is a silver snake in the shape of a _M_ except the one door that is neither glass or black marble. The heavy steel door panted Kelly green, there is no handle on this door and it very promising to be hiding all kinds of dark secrets, perhaps even missing girls.

"Can I help you, Mr. Holmes?" A man asks from behind him. Sherlock who had been inspecting the green door for any kind of entry turns to find a very young man in a white suit and green tie watching him with very little interest.

"How does this door open?" Sherlock brazenly asks.

The young man is pale, his cheek bones rival the detectives and his platinum hair is perfectly parted on the left then swept back in a classic little boys hair do. Sherlock's mother stopped combing his hair that way when he was three. The style, however, seemed to work quite well for this imposing business man.

"From the inside." The man replies dryly.

"How do I get inside?" Sherlock asks, the man smirks there is a wickedness to the smirk and Cassandra's voice whispers across the detective's mind: _he is a snake_.

"You don't, Mr. Holmes. Follow me." The young man beacons walking down to one of the glass doors, he holds it open and allows Sherlock to enter first.

John is sitting in a leather chair facing a glass desk, they are on the eight floor. The young man takes the throne like chair behind the desk- the man in charge then.

"My I presume you are Mr. Draco Malfoy then?" Sherlock asks not really needing the confirmation only wanting a few seconds to survey the office. Book case on the right side of the wall facing the vault- simple, a hidden passage way. He walked over to read the book titles all boring ethic and political books. A scull over a thousand years old sitting upon a stack of supernatural novels and guide books, and a pressed flower in a frame with a white cloth back, bell heather if Sherlock was not mistaken.

"Let's get on with it, why are you seeking about my domain like a crook in the night? Dolores is very upset over your escapades." Malfoy stated there was a hint of amusement in the last part.

"The toad creature I presume." Sherlock stated with one more sweep of the room before he sets himself next to John in a matching leather arm chair. "I needed to talk with you and was not in your appointment book, _it_ would not let me pass so I improvised."

"And what is so important that you could not make an appointment like a normal client?" Mr. Malfoy asked once more appearing bored.

"Not a client I am a consulting detective and I am looking for a missing class mate of yours. I was informed you were the only one that has not been interviewed out of the few that last saw her."

"No one I am acquainted with is missing so you must be mistaken" Mr. Malfoy boldly declares with a dead look in his eyes.

"Curious how you have a locked door in your establishment that can only be opened from the inside, when there is a missing girl of your acquaintance." Sherlock states.

"I have to ensure a certain level of privacy too many of my clients, housing secrets is one of those service, a locked vault is quite rational." Mr. Malfoy states with a sneer.

"So you don't have any girls locked in your vault." Sherlock point blank asks.

"No yet." Mr. Malfoy is very snide but his disinterest is still apparent.

"So you are not aquatinted with a Hermione Granger?" Sherlock asks watching as the young man simply stops. He stops moving, breathing, blinking, he simply stops. It's a bit creepy and it lasts for fifteen seconds then Mr. Malfoy blinks and his cold colorless eyes melt into a raging sea of molting steel and anger.

"If Potter wants to accuse me of something, he can do so like a man and to my face. The door is that way." For all the emotions in Mr. Malfoy's eyes his exterior is calm yet demanding. They are being dismisses and while John stands to leave Sherlock remains seated.

"I do not know a Potter, I was employed by Hermione Granger's sister." Sherlock states silently waiting until he has regained this young man's full attention.

"Hermione Granger does not have a sister. Though I have called Potter worse." Mr. Malfoy declares his eyes challenging.

"They're estranged." John fills in and Malfoy looks at him like he would like nothing more than to murder something.

"Thought you said you didn't know anyone missing." Sherlock arrogantly points out. Successfully getting Mr. Malfoy to once more focus on him. His brows furrow together and his lips purse in annoyance, any attempt at regaining an air of calm business man has been swept away just by the girl's name.

"Said I wasn't acquainted with anyone missing. Granger and I are not acquainted." Mr. Malfoy lies, it's a good lie too one that perhaps anyone else might believe.

"Nope." Sherlock calls bullshit.

"Bloody Know-it-all! Anyone who has ever meant her would want to strangle her. Did you check the morgue for bodies?" Mr. Malfoy sounded a bit too interested in that possibility.

"You're not helping your case." John points out sounding put off by this man's apparent glee over the possibility.

"She is arrogant, she knows everything. She is insufferable and has to be right all the time, never mind she is actually right. The students at our school were chosen, handpicked to attend…yet Granger made everyone else there feel like ignorant children. Top of the class worked hard for it, or so I thought until I found out she was taking university classes by post and that is why she spent so much time in the library. Not because of her primary studies but because the bleeding know-it-all is working on a doctorate. Have you ever met a genius Mr. Holmes?" Mr. Malfoy is all worked up talking with more teeth than lips, looking ferocious like a hungry serpent ready to swallow them whole.

"A few." Sherlock boldly states.

"Not you. You think you're smart and you are clever, but Hermione Granger is brilliant. Whoever took her had planned it all out, every possibility. It only worked because she trusted them, that girl was wicked fast and strong." Mr. Malfoy bites out there is something in his expression that John picks up on.

"Know from personal experience do you?" John snidely asks

"She smacked me when I was thirteen, I learned some self-defense buffed up, trained."

"Tried to get revenge…" Sherlock lead him.

"Tried to steal a kiss, and she beat the crap out of me. That woman has a grace all her own." Mr. Malfoy praises in apparent disgust and wonder. There is something frightening in his tone when he speaks of the missing girl.

"So how do I know you don't have her hidden away to keep all to your deprived little self." Sherlock asks looking at the young man in front of him judgingly

"Because if I conquered Hermione Granger I would show case my pretty little genius to the world." It was apparent that Mr. Draco Malfoy was more than a little insanely obsessed.

"It was nice meeting you." Sherlock lied shaking hands with the snake across the desk.

"Let's go, John." Sherlock states turning to leave.

"When you do find her… if you bring her by the office I will compensate you accordingly." Mr. Malfoy called out the offer to their retreating backs a dark lure there that makes the hairs on Sherlock's neck stand in attention. They don't respond leaving the building a quickly as possible.

When they reached the outdoors and hailed a taxi Jon turned to Sherlock, "Do you think he has her or do you believe him when he say doesn't." John asks looking agitated by the encounter.

"He doesn't have her." Sherlock proclaims with absolute certainty.

"How do you know?" John asked clearly not willing to take Mr. Malfoy's word.

"Because, John, she trusted her attacker." Sherlock reminds the doctor.

"I don't follow." John looks confused replaying the conversation with Mr. Malfoy in his head.

"The girl was too smart to trust a man like that." Sherlock proclaimed turning to look out the window.

**The lost is found**

The street was brightly tend by the street lamps the weather clear the night sky hung with all the jewels of the stars then there was lightning out of nowhere ripple in a cross the sky followed by a loud crack unlike any thunder ever heard. The street went dark all the lamp post went out no one whom dared to peek out of their window could see a thing; no rain followed, no lightning followed, no repeating thunder of any kind followed. The street lamps flickered and one by one they re-illuminate: casting shadows. Only one resident had dared venture out of his house at such an hour, the loud sound a noise he had grown accustomed to living in the wizard world.

Harry's perimeters had been breached. His spells laid shredded where they had been cast months before warring alarms blared implying his house was under attack. Harry Potter put on his glasses and shoved his feet in his slippers before shuffling to the hall way with a flick of his wrist he turned the alarm off and peeked out the window to get a look at the impending threat. Only the steps were empty his eyes wondered to the square and there in the center was a hunched figure crumple over and all alone.

"Harry what's going on?" His live in girlfriend Ginny Weasley asked from the bathroom.

"Spells been breached." He explained. "Best to stay here." He tells her shutting the door in her face as he yawns widely.

She squawks and he ignores her as he opens the front door and adjusts his glasses. The square is just flickering back to light, the hunched figure in the center was oddly familar. Even in this poor light with his bad sight he knows her and without thought of consequence or much thought on anything he throws himself down the stair case and scoops her into a fierce hug, clinging to her like she would disappear in his arms.

She is trembling and she smells like rotten meat, but there is no question in his mind that it is her.

"Hermione." He whispers her name like a prayer and she looks up at him.

"Harry" She says his name in disbelieve and the tears in her eyes fall, at the same time the sky opens and a downpour assaults them where they sit clinging to each other in the cobbler square. He moves hoisting her up in his arms bridal style her hands grip his shoulders, her face buried in his neck.

"You're safe. I have you." He promises whispering as her fingers dig deeper into his flesh, her body shacking as she sobs uncontrollably. She is ridiculously light, she feels fragile in his arms bone and skin he is carefully concerned if he holds her too tight she might break, but if he does not hold her tight enough she might just disappear again.

"Harry." She weeps his name and her body begins to go slack, and justs as her arms go limp, the raining stop, he adjusts her so he can see her face. She has passed out but hat beautiful heart shaped face with puckering coral lips, is all too familiar. Her eye lashes full creating a crescent shape on her cheeks that are sulked, her skin is pale gone is her healthy glow and rosy cheeks, Harry feels the anger burring in his chest as he hugs her tighter, carrying her up the stairs and safely home.

First time she wakes up it is apparent that somewhere between her vanishing eight months pass and showing up just as mysteriously last night she has lost her marbles. Hermione is not quite right, gone is the clever girl with a ready answer and smile. Defender of all she loved and those she felt deserved a champion. In her place is a frail, half-starved creature with innocent eyes, which can barely form a full sentence let along do for herself. Hermione Granger has been reduced to an ignorant and frighten child.

Ginny Weasly terrifies her, if any indication of the earth shattering scream and her hiding in the nearest closet when Ginny tried to server her food in bed. It takes Harry nearly an hour to coax Hermione out of the closet, Harry places the tray in front of her and motions for her to eat. Hermione out right refused to eat anything prepared on the tray. So Harry takes her down to the kitchen and made her pancakes just as she had showed him how to do so long ago.

She smiles and after he cut it up for her and feed her the first bite which she thankfully eats- she is able feed herself. When she has finished her meal Harry explains that she needed to take a shower and that it would be best if Ginny was in the bath room to help. Hermione went back to her closet, refusing to go anywhere with the red headed demon.

Harry laughed Ginny glowered at her boyfriend. It takes Harry another hour with filled with stories of her and Ginny's friendship to get Hermione to come back out of the closet standing before him with wide eyes staring at him like he is her everything.

"Why can't you help me?" Hermione asked with all the innocence of a five year old. Harry laughed nervously and Ginny glowered at Hermione. Hermione down right refuses to take a shower when Harry explains he can't that it is better for Ginny to help. But seeing that even in this feeble state at the core of this Hermione, she still stands firm, a stubborn girl who is a quick study.

Harry reassured his girlfriend of the predicament, reminding Ginny of just how close him and Hermione had always been, then puts on his big boy swimming trunks and ushers Hermione into the bathroom, leaving the door open.

When they get into the bathroom it became painfully aware that Hermione's mentality of self-sufficiency was perhaps closer to that of a three year old. He turns the water on and adjusted it to the temperature he used, then without any warning or instruction she peels off her rank clothes and throws them on the floor. Harry had every intention of looking, he wanted to know what had been done to her. They had lived through a war together and confided in each other the ones they experienced alone. Harry knew all her stories and she knew of all his. From scars growing up to ones from the war, and if there were any new ones he wanted to know needed to see to understand exactly what was done to her. He did not see any new ones but she was bruised, finger bruising along her sunken in waist line and long dark bruising across her shoulder blades and the lower back of her thighs. She was so small, Hermione had always been small but she had always had a healthy softness like any healthy woman, but there was nothing healthy about her a skeleton coveren in skin and hair. He took mental pictures, then there were the angry welt bruising all around her wrists and ankles, where someone had chained her down for long periods of time. Harry could feel that pricking sensation behind his eyes as he reigned his emotions in. He had a job to do and now was the time for him to be strong.

"Burns." She says braking into his assessment. Harry shakes his head noticing her huddled down at the back of the tub out of the water's reach. He nod understanding.

"Right I can turn it down." He tells her leaning over and doing just that. Her hand touches the water and she tells him with a small smile when he has reached a temperature she likes. She scoots down in the bath tub letting the water cascade around her before staring up at him like she is waiting for him to do something.

"Ok" He states a little nervous do to her lack of clothing than anything else. Hermione was not an exhibitionist. But this _is_ Hermione the girl that spent seven years taking care of him now it was time for him to do the same for her.

"Bath." She tells him like he is the simpleton and it becomes apparent she has no idea what a bath is.

"Right. I'll wash your hair first then you can wash your body." He explains taking the shampoo and applying it to her hair starting to scrub. She sits straight back and unnaturally still as he works.

"Harry." she reaffirms, his name seems to mean something that she can't explain in words but she shows in her actions, and it seems weird but he just nods thinking he understands.

"OK. Put your head back so I don't get soap in your eyes." He has to walk her through it step by step, body positioning and how to hold a wash cloth to clean your body, what parts to clean first to last. It was one of the most humiliating experiences of his life and he wonders if she has ever felt odd about the lengths she has gone through to help him in the course of their friendship. He mimics how she is to rinse herself off and then wraps a towel around her hair and then around her body.

"Step carefully the floor is a little wet and if you fall you could get hurt." He tells her and she nods. He guides her through the door and Ginny is setting across the hall with murder in her eyes.

"Took you two long enough." She states snidely.

"Has Ron gotten back to you?" Harry ask maneuvering Hermione down the hall to his room, he purposely leaves the door open again.

"Said he'd be here soon." Ginny replies she is looking at Hermione like she still doesn't believe it is her.

"Did you tell him why?" Harry asks sitting Hermione on his bed.

"You told me not to. So no I didn't. Don't what whoever had her to know, right?" Ginny's question holds a million and one meaning that hurts Harry's heart, he truly did not understand why she was acting like a scorned lover.

"I think they were playing with her mind, she's like a child. Can't remember how to shower or cut her food. I want to know what they were trying to do to her and why." Harry said.

"Or she's an imposter and she's playing you for a fool." Ginny stated coldly.

"Missing puzzle pieces." Hermione says looking at Ginny her eyes are bright like she understands. And there is a faint recognition as she looks at the red head and does not scream. It is an improvement.

"This is Hermione." Harry swears. "Your jealous does not belong here Gin. I need your help and she needs mine. Our friend. Our Hermione."

"I'll find something for her to wear." Ginny's shoulder relax walking out of Harry's room and into the guest room, where all her clothes are.

Hermione stands shrugging out of towels, she runs her fingers through her hair. Harry turns his back red cheeked as she helped herself to Harry's dresser, finding pajama pants that she slipped on and an old t shirt both of which are way too big for her.

Harry turns around and laughs.

"Yes you do tend to steal my clothes. Nasty habit of yours." He tells her adjusting his glasses before pulling the shirt up enough to adjust the draw string then roll the pant waist band just as he had seen her do a million and one times. "Wait the crème de la crème." He explains pulling a hair tie out of thin hair another favorite trick of hers. He takes the hem of the shirt and bunches it at one side of a hip and ties it with the tie.

"Student becomes the teacher." Hermione says with a smile. Just then Ginny returns with something fuzzy and pink.

"She'll be more comfortable like this Ginny, thank you though." Harry says. Ginny throws the pile on top of his dresser with a huff.

"Goodnight." She bites out leaving again clearly going to sleep in the guest room. Harry shakes his head unwilling to deal with Gin's drama right this minute. He walks over and picks up a wide tooth comb. "Here set on the bed I'll comb your hair then we will go to bed too." He tells Hermione who obeys.

Harry combs out her hair just as she had taught him after she had sprained her arm right the second war. He even braided it in a very unimpressive lopsided plait down her back- it was better than it hanging in her face he even conjured up a second hair tie for his master piece. He tucked her in bed and crawled in right beside her his arm under her pillow as he turned to look at her. They had slept side by side many times this time was no different and there was a comfort there for Harry to know she would be there in the morning.

Harry awoke to Hermione's restlessness, she was crying and thrashing about. He whispered her name in the dark, she woke with a start. "Harry?" again the way she said his name made his heart beat faster. He placed his hand on her forehead just as she had for him after a nightmare. "I'm here." He reassures her.

"Broken." She tells him rolling on top of him, staring down at him with urgency, her eyes begging for him to understand. He freezes at the feel of her weight on top of him. Terrified of the current situation. He loved her but not in the way that suggest anything romantic. He loved her like an extended piece of himself, fully and truly without complications or hidden agenda. Hermione was his sister the simplest part of his heart.

She is still looking down at him, motionless her eyes wide in the dark the beams of the moon the only light. It drifts in an seems to be illuminating her eyes, so wide filled with trust begging for him to understand what she has no words for.

"Fix." One word sentences is all she seems capable of and when he moves to push her off him she grabs ahold of his head, her thumbs on his temples as she pulls him closer to her, she is scaring him but he doesn't have the heart to back away, to lose her again, so he lets her rest her forehead on his, her pinkies wrap around to the back of his head just above his neck. "Path." She tells him and he is breathing heavy as his mind is jerked forward and thrown into darkness.

There is a child crying, a song of sorrow the only sense that welcomes Harry. Light does not exist only sound and he knows that cry, he has heard it more often than he would like in his life time. "Hermione?" He calls out to her sorrow, and the whisper of her name echoes into the void a small beautiful child with wild curls materializes in front of him, her eyes widen and in return she whispers his name through her tears. "Harry." His name is a warm pulse that created a dimness to the darkness and formless shapes become visible. The girl Hermione throws herself into Harry's embrace and his whole boy vibrates with her sorrow. He can feel her loneliness and isolation how she is so happy to see him she seems to glow with joy at his presence.

"He said you won't come, but I knew you would find me. You always find me, Harry." The child mournfully declares looking up at him with wide honey colored eyes.

The pain peeks again behind Harry's eyes as he understands, she had waited for him to recuse her, only he never did. He couldn't.

"Where is he?" Harry asked hoping Hermione's subconscious could remember who it was that took her, who had deduced her into this childlike state.

The child however looks frightened. "His name is forbidden." She whispers.

"Fear in a name only increases the fear of the thing itself." Harry reminded her of her own words but the child shakes her head griping him tighter.

"He will hear, even in the silence he has ears." She tells him burying her face against his stomach. He strokes her hair and thinks- he needs to calm her down. He thinks of all the way she has calmed him after a nightmare or vision and he can hear her voice rise in a calming melody, remembering how she sings, how her songs always calmed him, and how she would play the piano at Grimmald place in the dead of night when she couldn't sleep. Mozart always lured him back to sleep.

The music rises, not from her consciousness but from his own, him remembering how she played. He envisioned her, a strong healthy Hermione, his pillar of strength with her kind eyes and patient smile playing the piano as he laid on the couch caught up in her music and how he felt so safe with her. The child sways and Harry picks her up and sets her on his hip swaying with her in his arms, rocking her as the music fills the void around them. She sighs and her body relaxes and the darkness flickers fading to a dimness of shadow and moon light. Harry realizes he is conscious laying down in his bed a small weight on him, Hermione's body and her steady breaths feel more real than the little girl had. He rolls her off him and on to her side, pushing her hair out of her face, he kisses her temple and wraps his arm around her sleeping form.

"You are safe." He promises the sleeping girl.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sleepless Nights**

Sleep was a bitter endeavor, wasted hours as the mind drifted through the subconscious in a nonsensical maze, never to reach the end. Sherlock could not sleep, it simply was not possible as he stood eyes glued to the web of truths he has sleuthed out to try and discover the whereabouts of the missing girl. How did a clever girl disappear without any witnesses; someone knew something but no one was talking.

The girl in question a curious study. A gifted child that attended a gifted school that did not exist. No records of her after primary school, and curious enough Cassandra did not seem at liberty to say what school the girl attended. _The school was not important, Sherlock_\- was his brother's reasoning when he phoned Mycroft two days ago. But during said phone call Sherlock had been able to obtain more names of potential witness from the night in question. He had barley been able to contact a fourth of the list, the others seemed to exist no more that the girl or her elusive school. It seemed that everyone involved was a suspect and Sherlock simply could not get a handle on any of it. He had obtained pictures of the girl in question by way of Cassandra, distant snap shots taken through a long rang lenses. She was a pretty enough girl, and small in stature, it was logical to see how an average sized person could easily over power her.

It was perplexing to Sherlock, how Cassandra had not noticed her sister's absences sooner. Everything that the detective had uncovered so far, simple did not add up to Cassandra's story. It was apparent there are secrets of the relationship between the two women than the blatancy of estranged sisters suggests. Sherlock was frustrated by those secrets, how was he supposed to find something if everyone was withholding evidence. He even had his homeless network on the prowl- pictures of the missing informants spread throughout London, to no avail.

Sherlock could not fathom the girl still alive, after such a long time it did not bode well, so he did as Mr. Malfoy suggested and had Molly check multiple morgues in and around London- it was only a matter of time before something turned up.

Sherlock's phone rang just as John walked in with breakfast.

"Do you have useful information, or are you just going to hinder the investigation you hire me for?" Sherlock practically yelled into the phone.

Cassandra's voice was calm collected, "I am calling to let you know your services are no longer needed."

Sherlock gripped the phone and his lips turned into a disbelieving scowl. "Why?" He asks too calmly there is an edge to his tone but woman on the other end of the line simply sighs.

"She turned up two nights ago." Cassandra tells him obvious unwilling to explain further.

"Alive?" Sherlock can't help the shock radiated off his words. How this girl he was beginning to question even could existed, turn up alive after so many months of missing.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes, Alive. Thank you for your services but you are no longer needed." Cassandra's tone is too business like her emotions teeter on the edge of her words.

"Who..." Sherlock begins to ask when she cuts across him.

"Good bye Mr. Holmes." She says before the line goes dead. More secrets from the British government, but Sherlock is in too deep, he has lost hours of sleep to this case, this crazy nonsensical case that has polluted his brain for the last month, and he needed to know. To know who was behind such a masterful abduction and why, what had they wanted with the girl and where she had been kept, a place that existed in the same light as the girl and her elusive school. Sherlock needed answers. Knowing that for him: this case was far from over.

**Faith and the Faithless**

"She has lost her damn mind, Harry. Can't you see that? Ever since she came back into our lives, Hermione is not Hermione."

"I know Ron. That's why we have to help, can't you see that?" Harry was begging.

"No I can't. If it is such an emergency why wouldn't she ask for both our help? Why is it always you?" Ron was bitter over Hermione's apparent preference between her childhood friends.

"Probably because you have made your position quite clear." Harry bits out, his patience wearing thin of emotional Weasleys

"What position?" Ron asks his eyes flashing with his internal hurt.

"The one where you think yourself betrayed and your impatience for your own inability to understand what Hermione tries to say but does not have the word for."

"Right, she shows up out of nowhere, completely mad after months having gone missing, without any clue of what exactly happened to her, don't you think that peculiar? I mean we all put our lives on hold to try and help her, then just as I am trying to move on she shows up out of nowhere frightened by the very sight of me…me… her bloody boyfriend how am I supposed to take it, Harry?" Ron seethes, looking to Harry like he truly might have the answer. Harry sighs because in many ways Ron is right everything about Hermione is now peculiar, from her burst of unusable magic, to the way she can't string words together, and how she simply knows things in a scary perceptive way without being able to function like a normal girl or in the very least function in the way she had before her abduction. But that is not what Ron is taking about, like Ginny Ron has the emotion range of a tea spoon unable to see outside of how things affect him and his nice and neat little world.

"That right there is your problem, Ron, it's always about you. Always. No matter what is happening it always comes down how you are involved and the inconvenience it presents to you." Harry seethes turning his back, no matter how old they got it seemed Ron Weasley was always going to be a sub par friend.

"Harry?" Ron's tone is injured, Harry turns allowing his expression to soften, and neither of the Weasley's seemed to understand.

"I turned in my resignation, you should be getting your promotion by the weeks end." Harry says shaking his head, because that is what Ron really cares about, his consolation prize.

"That's not what I ..." Ron started but Harry cut him off.

"No, again you never did." Harry bites out Disapparating with a telling _crack_.

He found her at the Lion's Claw, a small bed and breakfast owned and ran by old school mate, Luna Lovegood.

Hermione was playing her piano, loud and passionately as she often did when she was running from her thoughts. There was progress from when he first found her, a bridge that had begun to mend after that first night, after the night she pulled him into her mind and he gave her the peace of her own music. He greeted Luna with a kiss to the cheek, "I have tea ready will you take her a cup?" Luna asked, knowing that Hermione still had her peculiar tendencies even with her growing progress.

"Chamomile?" Harry asked taking the tray.

Luna nods with a small smile. Harry climbs the stairs two at a time. The music stops and Harry can hear Hermione muttering to herself. "Two, then five, a red head, why a red head?"

"I have tea." He announces before walking in. She is sitting on the piano bench the floor littered with papers her hair a wild mess and her face unnaturally pale. This was what the Hermione Granger had been reduced to a raving mad woman addicted to the dark and Mozart.

"How are you?" He asked noticing the video logs of the pub she had been abducted from, video logs he had been refused months ago with time stamped pictures.

"Persuasion." Hermione tilted her head answering his unspoken question.

"God, Hermione! I don't need to know, I am an Auror." He shouted clearly upset over what he perceived as a confession to using an unforgivable.

She looked up at him wide eyed looking confused for mere seconds, it was the first time in days that she actually stopped and looked at him. He shifted his feet looking down at his shoes feeling exposed under her searching gaze.

"Was…I didn't use an unforgivable." She reassures him, with clarity.

"I didn't suggest…" Harry started, his voice trailing off, he couldn't lie to her not even over something like a misunderstanding, which is something he seemed to do a lot of lately. Once second she would be focused and he understood everything she said and did and the next she would be foggy eyed and clueless a little more than how she had been when he found her.

She rolled her eyes at him, "There are other ways to persuade, Harry. Nothing a short skirt and a little lipstick couldn't accomplish." She smiles, it was the first time in days and it made Harry's heart constrict and him grind his teeth.

"Did Ronald accept your resignation?" She asked with that pull on her lip that let him know she already knew the answer. She had always been a reader but there was something incredibly unnerving about how in tune she was to him and those around her. Like she could read them just as easily as she could on of those complicated tombs she use to check out in the restricted section at Hogwarts.

"Have you eaten today?" Harry asked, knowing the answer.

"Luna made me lunch." Hermione smiled sweetly and Harry glared at her.

"I asked if you ate it." He tells her with a raise eye-brow.

"What did Ginny say about your resignation?" Hermione inquired picking Crookshanks up from the piano ledge and adjusting him in her arms.

"Stop changing the subject." Harry orders.

"Pot or kettle?" Hermione asks, standing and cooing at her cat.

"You need me more than then the ministry." Harry tells her letting his eyes soften, she was beginning to shift, her attention no longer on him- he had to keep her focused.

"What did Ginny say?" She repeated petting the cat that was purring loudly.

"How did you know?" He inquried hoping she would look at him again he could not watch her mind shift, falling back into that childlike void of sorrow and sadness.

"You're angry and sad. More than usual. The mud on your shoes is red and still wet you just came from the ministry, you have not gone home yet have you. Poor girl... You came here first .Why?" Hermione asked setting Crookshanks up on the mantel above the fire place her back to Harry.

"You know why." Harry tries to not let his anger pollute what is between them, but sometimes when she leads him like this- forcing him to say aloud what he doesn't want to, it hurts. But she expects his honesty and what's more important she deserves it.

"Doesn't count you didn't tell me." Hermione tell him setting Crookshanks down before moving to wrap her arms around him, hugging him tightly, her head on his shoulder.

"Where is it?" Harry asks, if she wants his honesty then he deserves hers.

She nodding towards the bathroom knowing what he is referring to. He hugs her back placing a kiss on her head.

"Why didn't you eat it?' He asks hoping she will answer, though she never does.

"You'll laugh." She tells him pitifully, stepping out of his embrace.

"At you? Never." He looks at her letting his anger diffuse, he needs her to put to words what he suspects, he needs the explanation of why she won't eat, why even after all his hard work of putting weight back on her, now here on her own she is back to a state of deteriorating health.

"Yes you will. I see the way you look at me. The pity and heart ache. Why are you here?" Her tone is hard and she looks upset. Good that means he has prolonged her lucidness.

"I'm worried about you, my sister- whom was kidnapped and tortured to the point of insanity. Then let loose on the world with no body to trust but me. You need my help. I can't disappoint you, not again." Harry has lived with his own guilt for too long, guilt for not finding her sooner, for not protecting her the way he should have.

"Why would you help me?" she asks looking earnest in her inquiry.

"Why would you help me, Hermione? Why would you put your life on the line again and again? How could you believe the crazy shit I said, when, when the war was going on. You never waived, Hermione, never...now I will not waiver." Harry vows.

"Poisoned." She whispers like confessing sins, her eye brows furrow together like she is not sure if she is lying or telling the truth. But Harry understands the one word and the magnitude it brings. The confession behind her confusion. Whoever had her, had been drugging her food, that is why she was half starved why she didn't trust anyone's cooking but his own, because whoever had taken her she had trusted, and even if she could not form a name or remember a face, her subconscious connected the dots, to be free she had to starve herself.

"What should I make?" He decides to not push it, now that he understands it will take time for him to build from that knowledge. But her confession only reinforced what he already had decided. Hermione was now his full time job, and in time he will help her recover.

"Breakfast, eggie in a basket and bacon?" Hermione asks beseeching. Harry smiles knowing out of all meal times breakfast was her favorite, and even if it was dinner time he truly didn't care as long as she ate.

"Of course, tea?" He asks already knowing the answer, he simply wants to keep her focused, any conversation was better than none. The silence always calling to her puzzled mind.

"Coffee with a bit of cream." She requests as Harry shoots her the:_ what kind of English woman drinks coffee,_ look?

"I acquired my afflictions in France." She defends, he smiles. This an ongoing joke between them.

"I'll be in the kitchen." He says watching as her eyes shift back to her piano, her solace.

Harry is surprised that she joins him in the kitchen. Hermione sets at the table her coffee in hand as she watches him cook, with apparent interest.

"You cook?" She asks clearly confused, Harry's eyes sadden as he turns his body so she can't see his face.

"You taught me." He reminds her. The silence stretches between them and he racks his brain for anything to say, once more feeling her drift.

"Ginny?" Hermione asks she is back to single words and Harry turns to look at her glossed over eyes. She understands well enough though her internal struggle is written on her face. The quiet was not Hermione's friend.

"She will know by now." He tells Hermione flipping the bacon on to a plate.

"Stay?" Hermione asks taking a sip of her coffee, functioning like a normal girl on the outside.

"You tell me." Harry asks, knowing she already knows, another peculiar trait since she has returned, she simply knows things.

"Belonging." Hermione says her eyes shift to the open window, her eyes squint against the natural light.

"Hermione?" He says her name watching as her eyes snap back to him.

"Accommodations." She says all this like code, like he should understand the single word like it is common knowledge. He looks flabbergasted unsure if he truly understands what she is saying.

"I have a house. Why would I want to live here? With Loony as my land lady."

"Safe." She seems to be reassuring him, but she begins to hum a sonnet.

"The Lion Claw is safer than my house?" He asks disbelieving.

She smiles no words, she is gone, and Harry is left with only the company of her humming.

They ate dinner together, she cleared her plate and with a peck on her forehead he said his good bye.

Hermione smiles at him an almost lucid knowing smile as he calls out his destination throwing the floo powder at his feet.

Harry materialized within second through his own hearth at Grimmald Place. Thanking Merlin for his seeker reflexes as he ducks miss the plate that his girlfriend threw at his head.

"You sneaky little twat! You are a damn bastard." Ginny screamed picking up another plate and chucking it at his head.

She missed and he stood there with his hands out in front of him. "What did I do?" He asked watching her drop the third plate and pick up her wand.

"I asked you to quite you're job, Harry Potter, after that last case, the one you closed six months ago. Do you remember what you told me?"

"Ya?" He looked confused her knuckles turned white and her wand was now pointed him with a shaky hand. "Needed my job, my connections to help find Hermione." He said out loud remembering the conversation very clearly.

"Today! You quit your job. Today."

"I thought you would be happy. I quit for you." He tells her, still not understanding her distress.

"For her." Ginny corrects with a sob.

Harry is still confused he takes a step forward to pull Ginny in his arms but she steps back with a hurt expression. Her wand still trained on him. "You quit your job for her, not for me. You found her and…" Ginny's voice trailed off as tears roll down her cheeks.

Jealousy. Harry shook his head he really didn't need to hear this. As always the Weasley's simply did not understand never easily pleased. "Hermione didn't ask me to quit." Harry says still not understanding why Ginny is so upset.

"No, she didn't need to." Ginny was full out sobbing now her face red and snot running out her nose, she wiped it with the back of her hand in a quick violent gesture.

"Ginny...I don't understand." And Harry truly didn't.

"No, and why would you, Harry Potter, the chosen one a damn bleeding heart. I can't watch her make a full out of you too. She had us all fooled... Strung poor Ron along at least he grew wise. But you, she still owns you." Ginny accuses being the pretty little fool that she is unable to see past her own pain and rejection. Or what she perceives as rejection.

"You make it sound like Hermione is some kind of evil temptress. It's Hermione your best friend. I didn't quit my job just because of her, I quit because you asked me to. And now that she is safe I can do what you asked I had thought you would be happy. I was going to surprise you."

"I look happy don't I? But I'm certainly not surprised. I have a bag packed for you." Ginny motioned to the duffle by the door. Harry sighed completely lost on why Gin was making a mountain out of mole hills.

"What? Are you seriously kicking me out of my own house?" Harry asked disbelieving his own tempter rising.

"We need some time apart. I will move out as soon as I find a place." Ginny tells him, but he looks at her clearly disbelieving her audacity.

"Bullocks, this is my house you go find somewhere else tonight." Harry demands, she had parent, this place was the only home Harry had.

"Don't make this any harder than it already is." Ginny tells him motioning to the packed bag. He stalks over grabbing the bag. He sees there will be no reasoning with her tonight. He walks out the front door his own anger not making him think straight. He just needs to get away from her before he does something or says something they both will regret. Ginny shut the door in his face. Harry is too angry to do anything but stand on his stoop and shake with anger. A pop and Kreacher is standing in front of him with an umbrella. "Not to worry master Kreatcher will have her out by tomorrow." Harry can only nod taking the umbrella. That is when it starts to rain. He curses loudly, opening the umbrella and starts to walk. Not really knowing to where.

By the time he reaches the Lion Claw he has calmed down quite a bit. The rain has stopped and the moon is high in the sky. Luna answers the door, she is wearing a house coat but looks to be awake. "Hermione implied you would need a room tonight. Been waiting up for you." Luna tells him welcoming him in and motioning for him to follow her up the stairs. Harry looks at the clock hanging on the wall, it's a quarter to midnight.

Luna shows him to his room and Harry pulls out his wallet. "No need for that. She already paid for you, Harry, She was certain you'd be back tonight."

"How could she, I didn't know?" He asked looking at the clean room with blue shutters and a full bed.

"You are asking me that?" Luna asks looking shocked. "Told me this morning before you even came over. She knows you well, doesn't she?"

"I have a feeling she knows us all very well." He says setting his bag on the bed. "I'll make breakfast tomorrow, Luna."

"Perhaps she'll eat it, then. She won't touch anything I make. I do worry about her." Luna's sad eyes look pensive and Harry smiles appreciating her taking care of Hermione in his stead.

Harry nods understanding before shutting the door behind Luna and placing a few wards before going to bed.

He awakes to Hermione playing the piano- it is not an arrangement he recognizes. Harry walks sleepy into the common room that he and Hermione will be sharing. It's a large room with cherry wood moldings and nearly every wall from ceiling to floor is book shelf filled to the brim. A small fire place in in the east corner with a plush looking sectional and the grand piano has made a home directly diagonally from the fire place, a balcony door to the left of the bench though the entry way has been covered my long velvet curtains obscuring any natural light. He can see her from behind her bare feet working the petals as her fingers glide across the keys. Her chocolate curls bouncing to her movements and she appears to be wearing a teal robe of silk with orange and red flowers pattern. Cookshanks is lazily draped across the music shelf, the Kneezer's tail was twitching in the air keeping time like a metronome as it swished back and forth. The single action seemed all the animal could manage Harry noticed its eyes were closed a paw hanging over the edge its head resting comfortably on the other paw.

Harry stops three feet from her, right outside a ring of salt that has been drawn around the piano and its player. He crouches down pitching the salt and the music suddenly cuts off, Hermione turns in a quick action staring at him patiently, her robe now angled over a bare shoulder.

"Why salt?" He asks, not remembering salt meaning anything in the magic world.

"Spilled." She says not bothered by his distress. She looks more lucid than he had left her the night before, mornings seem a better time for her. Her legs have been brought up on the bench ankles crossed, her robe rides up and Harry's eyes are drawn to her shapely legs.

"Please tell me you have knickers on." He states more for his own sanity.

"Define knickers." She has that serious innocent tone that lets him know she is willing to tell him exactly what she doesn't have on just to see him squirm. But her eyes shine playfully and his heart swells, appreciating the fact that she is with him, even if for a few moments.

He pushes his glasses up and closes his eyes hoping he is not tuning red. "I'll go make breakfast." He states turning to leave without looking at her again. Her music filling the house with calm serenity.

**Surveillance**

The text was received late last night just before midnight, one of Sherlock's spies had spotted a Mr. Harry Potter enter a bed and breakfast just off Nightingale. Sherlock's response is quick forwarding the text to Jon before making his way across town.

The business was closed reading: No Vacancy, but the restaurant part would open in the morning to serve breakfast. Sherlock sat himself on a park bench across the street waiting for any sign of life. He was not about to lose trail of Mr. Potter after weeks of trying to locate him.

Harry Potter was the missing girl's best friend, the one that she trusted the most, is what Sherlock was told by those he had interviewed. Even Mr. Malfoy had mentioned the boy's name.

Cassandra had confirmed her familiarity with the boy, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger had gone to the mysterious school together. Cassandra had even spoken with Mr. Potter initially but shortly after all traces of him vanished, though she had not seemed to concern by this development.

There was a warring interest in this case the perplexing aspects lathered in all the secrets and the fact that he had been fired from the case without any real conclusion made it impossible for him to leave it alone. He wanted answers.

As Sherlock sat outside the bed and breakfast waiting for Jon, he contemplated the missing girl, herself. He wanted to see her with his own eyes: the physical embodiment of the enigma.

She had to be the key. Simply by having the opportunity to meet her would tell him all he wanted to know about this case. Sherlock was sure the clever girl would have all the answers that plagued his mind.

John showed up coffee in hand at the same time a black van pulled up in front of the bed and breakfast. Sherlock had been distracted he hadn't even seen three large men marching up the stairs not bothering to knock but busting the door open, a woman screams and it is that the draws the two men's attention who immediately drop their coffees and attempt to run across the busy road. Moments later two people are being drug out of the house bags over their heads and stuffed into the van.

Sherlock and Dr. Watson are not fast enough, with traffic and the time it takes for them to reach the other side of the road the van has already sped off. Jon is at Sherlock's heels and they are hailing a taxi, Sherlock's eyes on the van, as they climb into the back seat of the yellow cab. "Follow that van." Sherlock demands. The cabby obeys nodding clearly recognizing the detective. They drive for nearly an hour when a tire blows forcing them to stop, losing the van. Sherlock is cursing while the cabby apologizes getting out to examine the damage.

Sherlock and John climb out of the cab, Jon going over to help the cabby with the jack while Sherlock paces along the side of the road, fuming in his disappointment.

It is twelve minutes of silence when Sherlock hits his head with his palm. "Idiot," He exclaims turning to John and the cabby as they finish up.

"What?" John asked.

"Mycroft, the men, they are Mycroft's men, and they are going to Brighton." Sherlock yells, pulling out his phone while giving the address to Mycroft's country estate to the cabby.

**Forbearance**

The bags were left on their heads when they are thrown into the back of the van- their hands left untied. Harry rips his off moving over to Hermione pulling hers off as well.

Her eyes are wide and there is a small smirk on her lips. She appears calm and amused about their current situation, surprising Harry. "Road trip." She says turning towards the front of the van. There are bars covered with a black cloth so they can't see whoever is driving let alone the road.

"Where are they taking us? Who abducted us?" Harry asked franticly, sitting beside an eerily calm Hermione.

"Quiet now, Mr. Potter. We have a long ride ahead of us." a man yells and the voice is so distinctive Harry immediately knows who abducted them. He had told Cassandra he hadn't thought it a good idea to spring a manipulative lying sister on Hermione in her delicate condition. Apparently Cassandra did not agree. Harry shook his head trying to calm down; what idiot abducts a girl out of her home, just a few weeks after she is found from her last kidnapping. Cassandra had a lot to answer for- she is the one that gave up the rights to any decision making when it came to her sister the moment she let Hermione believe her dead.

Hermione craws over and settles herself next to a glowering Harry, taking his hand in hers, her fingers working out Morse code on his palm. _Mystery_\- she tells him.

Harry responds with the word _Disapparation_. Hermione shakes her head spelling out _Resurrection_. This telling Harry that perhaps Hermione already knew that Cassandra was behind their current situation and perhaps she was eager to see her sister again.

* * *

A.N: It has been taken with great personal insult that Harry would allow Ginny to kick him out of his own house so I feel the need to explain. First it is a plot device to allow Sherlock the means to stalk Harry to the Lion Claw and second it works because of how emotional Harry is right now, with his concern over Hermione and his bewilderment over the Weasley's attitude, Harry is not in a state of mind to think rationally. Harry is a nice guy and he is stressed, he wants things to go back to how they use to be and he wants to make people happy because he cares. Another reason he doesn't push the rights to his house, yet, is because with him staying at the Lion Claw it allows him to keep an eye on Hermione in an environment she feels safe in.

I hope this clears the air- Also for those that have read this story over before, I changed Hermione and Harry's age from seventeen to eighteen. This has nothing to do with making Sherlock and Hermione's relationship 'Legal' it is because of a miscalculation on my part in terms with Hermione's birthday. Hermione was abducted about a month after Harry defeated Voldemort, then she was held captive for approximately eight months, making her eighteen- not seventeen. My mistake...I apologize... and even though this is fanfiction there are facts that I like to keep cannon and a character's birthday would be one of those.

Since I was already going through to correct my own plot error, I tried to change all of the Jon to Johns, Sorry if I missed any.


	3. Chapter 3

**Introductions**

Cassandra sat swirling her conic around in the crystal glass, her ankles were crossed just as their mother hand taught them that a proper lady sat, her hair immaculately fashioned into a French twist and her skirt suit was an ungodly shade of yellow that seemed to fit her perfectly. Next to her sat a middle aged man with thinning hair in a rather expensive suit that had been custom tailored to make him appear slimmer than he was. His pitched expression was a familiar sense of censure that Hermione was growing accustomed to, apparently he did not approve of her lack of attire. Too bad it wasn't up to her to be abducted out of her living room so early in the morning.

"You look well." Cassandra noted taking a sip of her drink, her expression bordered more on amusement then censure.

"Too many lies." Hermione states pulling her legs up to tuck them under her robe as she eyes her sister with distrust.

"Mr. Potter, it is a pleasure to see you again, can I presume you are taking good care of my Hermione?" Cassandra asks with an edge to her tone that is drenched in mockery.

"He feeds me." Hermione answers there is clarity in her eyes she seems to be understanding all being said and what is not being said.

"Yes Mr. Potter is a great asset to England he can not only kill dark wizards but cook, and baby sit too." Cassandra's tone is a dry shield hiding her true bitterness.

Harry shoots the woman an irritated expression- he has had enough of people's emotions. How dare they all abandon Hermione then act hurt by the trust she shows him alone?

"Your sister is in some kind of trouble and until I find out who abducted her we are not safe just anywhere. Are we safe here?" Harry asked upset over these people's inconsideration.

Hermione smiles as Cassandra turns to fully look at him her dark brown eyes assessing under her thick eye lashes.

"Please Harry we are in Brighton, no respectable dark wizard would come to Brighton." Hermione practically sings, eyeing Harry clearly amused. It was the first time since her return that Harry had seen that mocking expression. Cassandra and Mr. Homes turn their attention to her.

"Miss Granger, I apologize for not introducing myself sooner, I am..."

"Mycroft Holmes, I am aware of your credentials." Hermione interrupts waving him off like a pestilent fool. Harry can't hold back his smile at this.

"This is his house you will treat him with respect." Cassandra reprimands to Hermione's impatient eye roll.

"Because you're bedding him?" Hermione asks bluntly like discussing the weather.

"Am not!" Cassandra reacts aghast, Mycroft Holmes blushes.

"Too bad." Hermione replies flippantly still upset for Cassandra treating Harry so poorly.

"Abduction is not inducive behavior for respect or notoriety. Particularly before one can procure knickers." Hermione scoffed crossing her arms like a pouting child.

Cassandra now groans clearly irritated before finishing her drink and placing it on the table beside her luxury chair. "Please tell me that you are joking and are not in fact sitting on a member of the magistracy's sofa without any panties."

Harry's face is scrunched shaking his head, "The joke would be that there isn't any time of day when Hermione wear knickers." Harry clarified, Hermione smiled and both adults look shocked by this news.

Cassandra's fingers pinched the bridge of her nose and Hermione could hear her counting to herself backwards from twenty.

Mr. Holmes waved a servant over that had been standing next to the entry way. "Mr. Scott please go and fined something respectable for Miss Granger to put on, preferably something with under garments." To his credit he did not blush again while making the request. But then for a man of his years this really did not surprise Hermione, Cassandra however was the color of a ripened tomatoes.

"Do I want to know, Mr. Potter, why you know the lack of propriety my sister show cases regularly?"

Cassandra asks looking expectantly to Harry. Hermione looks at him too and his face has drained of color.

"Not my lover." Hermione seems to be reassuring in her statement.

"Good. You're too young to have a lover."

"You're too old." Hermione shoots back with a raise eyebrow.

"Ah Mr. Scott has brought you clothes." Cassandra point out as the servant places a pile of garment on the table in front of Hermione.

"Wasted efforts." Hermione boldly claims looking bored ignoring the garments on the table.

The tension is an uncomfortable silence between Cassandra, Mr. Holmes and Harry while Hermione simply gets up humming and walks toward the piano. With a single girlish twirl she changes her silk robe into a silk peach dress, the skirt rises high enough to show she conjured herself up a pair of matching knickers. The dress is beautiful falling just to her knees and fitting her like a second skin it has a twenties influence, elegant with a more modern flare. Her hair went from a messy braid to manicured ringlets flowing down her back. She looks lovely and more put together than Harry had seen her in a while. And once more it is clear there are tricks that Hermione has yet to share with him. Tricks she had not had before her abduction. She had always been a talented witch but the kind of magic she would show case since her return was eerier flawless and incredibly powerful wandless magic. Harry still wasn't sure what had been done to her but it seems that her magical potential had been unlocked and the more lucid she became the more powerful spells she could perform. In three steps Hermione is perched up on Mycroft Holmes very expensive grand piano.

"Dear, that's not a good idea. It hasn't been used in ages." Mycroft looks uneasy as she hoists herself up and lays down on the lid.

She can feel the music hum, though she has yet to play a note.

"Out of tune." Hermione tells them, laying her head back and closing her eyes, she's humming and Harry gets up his eyes glued on her.

"She was lucid." He shoots over his shoulder to the pair staring at her like she is crazy. Then she opens her eyes but she's not looking at anything and the music flows effortlessly from the piano keys. Harry knows she has just used magic to tune the instrument because the music flows like water, not one note is out of place. It's another one of her tricks one she enjoys regularly. She plays so she can dream, or think; Harry is never sure which.

"Should I get some salt?" He asks jokingly, her head turns slowly as she smiles at him the music does not falter.

"No they come in peace." She tells Harry her hand on his cheek before her gaze floats back to the moldings in the ceiling. Her fingers playing the notes in the air. Harry sighs heavily before taking a seat on the piano bench. He had learned a lifetime ago that Hermione leads, he follows.

"She plays beautifully, I didn't know that she played." Cassandra was the first to speak and Mr. Holmes looked to have calmed down over Hermione's invasion.

"That piano has not been used since I refuse lessons as a boy. She is adequate." Mycroft concedes.

Just then the door rings and Mr. Scott totters off to answer it. "Your sister is concerned for your wellbeing, Hermione." Mycroft says her name like she is an anomaly. "And so we have consulted someone to help us get to the bottom of all this...I assure you my man is discreet. But in turn we should be discreet ourselves." Mycroft announces motioning at Harry towards the piano, Harry understanding turns and pretends to play the piano as Mycroft waives someone over from the foyer. Hermione doesn't turn her head but the music falters and when she groans loudly in annoyance Harry is surprised by her reaction.

"There is nothing discreet about a peacock." Hermione declares eyes still on the ceiling as she plays the bridge of the music from memory. It's one of Mozart, one of her favorites.

"Hermione." Cassandra's tone again filled with a warning that Hermione will simply ignore.

"Murder!" Hermione practically screamed.

"Murder?" Harry asked whiplashed as his attention went from Hermione to the men standing across the room in the entry way. A tall dark haired man with pale skin and assessing blue eyes, and a shorter stocker man slightly his elder with blond hair and an expression of anger.

"Sorry have you two met before." The blond man who was a good foot shorted than the other asked before staring on clearly insulted by Hermione outrage. The dark curly haired man took three steps forward and his piercing blue eyes never left Hermione when he gracefully turned and sat on a chair adjacent to Mycroft.

"No Jon, we have not had the pleasure." the dark haired man stated sounding earnest. "Presumably the missing girl?" Sherlock asks.

"You're late." Mycroft greets his brother.

"I don't recall getting an invitation." Sherlock says realizing he had been played by Mycroft.

"Please, brother dear, the only way to get you to commit to anything is by asking you to not get involved." Mycroft declares with a nod to Cassandra who is smirking.

"What do you mean murder?" Harry asked Hermione over the top of the piano.

"He shot a man, point blank in the head." She whispers.

"That was never…" Mycroft started but Harry interrupts.

"Was he a bad man?" Harry asked the dark haired man who was still eyeing Hermione with a keen interest.

"Very bad." Sherlock confirmed with conviction.

Harry couldn't help the smile. "Good." He said reaching up and smacking Hermione's foot playfully. "Killing bad men is not murder." He tells her with a smile that reaches his eyes before remembering his supposed to be fake playing the piano.

"Harry found her. Or more like she found Harry." Cassandra told the dark haired man. Whom stood took off his coat and scarf threw them on the chair he just vacated and walked over to Harry.

"Sherlock Holmes, may I assume you are Mr. Potter." Sherlock asked holding out his hand, which Harry took to shake. Only he is pulled up out of his seat and closer to the detective than comfortable and then put under a microscope.

"Eighteen, atrocious eye sight, orphaned young, childhood malnutrition, but went to a private school no doubt set up by a trust from your parents. Murdered two, no three very bad people, you bite your nails, hate her cat, love her." He pauses looking closely at Harry then over to Hermione and back to Harry. "Brother in arms, well brother and sister in arms. He is not the culprit he would die for her, almost has a few times. An ideal protector. But not a torturer of kittens." Sherlock proclaims letting go of Harry's hand.

"I didn't know that piano could play by itself." Sherlock looked at the keys that kept playing without Harry and back to his brother.

"A new feature, why let it sit there and collect dust." Mycroft states. Sherlock shrugs and his eyes are back on the girl draped across the lid, her fingers keeping in time with the piano. Completely ignoring him.

He walks the length of the piano his fingers running along the polished surface until he reaches where her head is. He can read a great many things but none scream louder than she is in fact the girl he was hired to find. She turns her head to look at him and their eyes meet her large golden eyes filled to the brim with unfathomable knowledge and all of it twisted and turned as she fights to make sense of things she already knows.

"My name is Sherlock, you are Hermione." He tells her. She simply stares at him like a doe in head lights he wonders if she will tell him what he needs to hear, the answers he desperately needs. Then she turns away her eyes lock again with the ceiling and he realizes the music had stopped only because it starts back up again.

"Track marks are gone, but the animal is still inside." She sings, her eyes flutter shut and it is apparent that she has dismissed him, no more impressed with him than she is of her dead sister in perfect health across the room.

"What does she remember, before you found her?" Sherlock lunges down the length of the piano and seizes Harry by his collar.

"Nothing. There is nothing." Harry declares, trying to twist out of Sherlock's hold.

"Your brother is mental." Harry shoots to Mycroft whom has made his way to the liquor cabinet and is pouring another drink for Cassandra.

"She has to remember something. Anything. A smell, a touch, a sound. What does she remember?" Sherlock is all but yelling now but no one seems interested in his theatrics.

"Nothing. I've searched her mind myself, there is nothing. Something lurks and won't let her organize thoughts like you and I." Harry explained.

Sherlock humped. "You don't organize thought." The detective insults. Letting Harry go with flare.

Harry rolls his eyes, "I think it's past time we go. This man can't help us- he's too… logical." Somehow this in itself is an insult that Sherlock does not understand.

Harry marches over to the Hermione. "Hermione love, we're leaving." He whispers to her sweetly.

"But it's such a nice piano, an August Forster." Hermione half heartily argued.

"Yes, dear but the company is not nearly as enthralling. Let's go visit Luna's Grotrian instead." Harry offers his hand that she takes. He helps her sit up and his hands are on her hips to help her down, when he is knocked to the side. Sherlock is there standing not a foot away from her, his body facing her but the detective is looking at Harry.

"You said you looked into her mind, how?" He asks eyeing Harry suspiciously, hands in pockets.

"She showed me." Harry bit out between clenched teeth.

Sherlock turns his attention to the girl sitting on the piano, "Will you show me?" He asks a bit too interested in Harry's opinion. There is a dark edge to the detective's question that Harry cannot read.

"Not your best idea, brother dear." Mycroft cautions.

"Insatiable thirst not even I can quench." Hermione seems to be considering the request. "Can you see?" she asks but her words do not make sense to the detective. She reaches out towards Sherlock, it is like a siren call that he cannot resisted stepping forward and allows her to press her thumbs to his temples and her pinkies touch at the juncture were his head and neck meet.

"Curiosity is not a sin, Sherlock Holmes." Hermione whispers as his breath hitches and he can't hid the tremor of uncertainty before his mind is ripped forward landing in darkness.

The whimpering of a child his only companion. Then the music rises slowly softly too loud and distracting but the child grows silent. "She can function when the music is loud." Hermione is there standing beside him, a good half a foot shorter than him. She is wearing her peach dress but she looks tired.

"It's dark, can you make it light?" He asks impatiently.

"He'll see too." She tells Sherlock clearly worried.

"I want to see?" His patience is short.

"Wrong he." She tells him her eyes begging for him to understand.

"Thief?" He asks with a bit more patience.

"He steals from her, the music scares him, the light gives him eyes." She tries to find the words and Sherlock tries to work out her meaning.

"What does she do when the music plays?" He asks her expression is relief, clearly he understands better than Harry had.

"Cleans." Hermione confesses.

"Cleans?" he asks.

"Things to function. Match. Taste with taste, smell with smell, organize and hid." She explains.

"Where does she hid it all?" He asks. She pulls out a beaded purse so small nothing of importance could fit inside- then she opens it and gestures for him to look inside, a whole world is hidden. It's chaotic and illogical; understandable that she can hardly hold a thought but there is so much knowledge in the small package, he understands fairly well why she doesn't remember, or function very well at all.

"I spent a good deal of my time looking for you Miss Granger and one thing I learned from interviewing your friends and old teachers is the you are special, unique even among your gifted peers. From the fact that I'm standing inside your mind I have to accept there is some truth to the assessment but if you are the same genius so many gush over, why are you applying the rules of that world to the rules in here?" She looks up at him confused.

"There is a technique that can be used to remember anything and everything, to sort through the chaos and make sense of your reality. It needs to be a place, something familiar, a street, a house, a palace." Sherlock instructs and as he does so the darkness recedes, shadows diffusing to light and a massive library materializes around them the bookshelves are bare, books litter the ground and Sherlock looks around in awe, it is a perfect metaphor for what she is experiencing.

"It will take time, but now you can work and organize and use association to fix what was broke." He instructs picking a book up off the ground, and reading the spine. He looks pointing to Miss Granger walking over and placing the book on the corresponding shelf. She bends down picking up a book of her own, following his lead. He assist her, for some reason he was eager to help and with each book placed on the shelf the more she felt whole, the more she could think and rationalize.

They work to the music of her piano the notes drift and form into something she has not heard before but pulls in an alluring way. Hermione picks up a book that reads fist year charms and it is almost like the knowledge of the book soaks into her skin then with a flick and swish of her wrist the books rise and flutter about in chaotic order, filing themselves with wonder and ease and Hermione stands in the middle of the library breathless.

But there is something more there- something that she pulls at in the recedes of her mind and it all hits her in a blinding flash. She can comprehend so much all at once, like her brain is rebooting every memory playing overlapping one another, some she doesn't recognize others she had tried so hard to forget. Then ever book she ever read begins to play like a read along- singing knowledge to the void -a music that only she can hear. It is painful and welcoming and she is breathless when Sherlock reaches her through the jumbled mess his hands on her face. "Concentrate. Don't let it consume you. There is so much but it all has a place, find it." He orders and she can't hold it at bay as the light of her knowledge burns consuming her as she tries to filter through it.

Sherlock pulls back, unable to feel the fire, it scorches and burns, all of what she contains something he cannot even began to comprehend, he is limited and this scares him.

The light of the room is bright he gasps for air in an unnatural way. He is standing just as he had before hand in front of the spot where she is sitting on top of the piano. He blinks allowing his eyes to adjust and he looks at her. Just as his eyes adjust she reaches over and rips hair out of his head.

"Ow!?" He bellows his hands involuntary clenching around her thighs he hadn't realized he was gripping, he immediately let go and take three steps back calming himself.

"She does that." Harry states clearly entertained. She holds detective's hair in between her fingers and twists it. She looks at it closely, then far away, she runs her finger across the top and watches it fan out. Then she sets it on fire, and in a colorless puff it's gone.

"Did she just make fire, out of nothing?" John asks in disbelief.

"Six months" Hermione informs, as Harry helps her down from the piano that is still playing.

Sherlock looks at them clearly angry. "If you wanted to know I was sober you could have asked."

"He likes to withhold evidence." Hermione states with a tilt of her head.

"Sherlock, how did she do the fire trick just now?" John asked again looking ill.

"You said you were under cover." Mycroft accused

"I was in deep, okay?" Sherlock explained his attention back to Hermione who was walking towards the door, Harry right behind her. She twirled and her peach dress wrapped around her instead of flaring out, the material turned midnight blue then into wool. She is standing next to the door in a pea coat with matching trousers her hair is in plaits down either side of her head and Harry is placing a red wool beret on her head. The boy is wearing a grey button down wool coat, the same one that had been hanging in the foyer when John and he arrived.

"You found my hat!" she exclaimed delighted while adjusting it. There is something incredibly composed about her in a renewing way as she ignores everyone in the room apart from Harry Potter.

"While it has been interesting, we will be on our way. I believe I speak for both Hermione and myself that it has not been a pleasure. Next time you wish to see your sister, I suggest you give her a ring, we will be in touch, Cassandra. Your man-" Harry motions to Sherlock. "Is not up to this challenge. I assure you I will get to the bottom of this and keep her safe. Like i have always done." Harry Potter announces his eyes sweep the room with authority.

"Sherlock how did she do that?" John asked his hand over his mouth.

Harry's hand is on the base of Hermione's spine, they do not look at anyone again as Hermione wrapping her arms around Harry and they both vanish with a _crack_.

The piano stops playing and the room is strangely silent.

"It was such a beautiful song, I never heard it before." Cassandra commented setting her glass on a nearby table.

"Sherlock wrote it. I've heard him play it on his violin, never been played on the piano before- girl must of filched it form his brain. I do recall asking for subtlety. It seem your sister is as subtle as my brother." Mycroft commented to Cassandra who raises an eyebrow in response.

"Filched from his brain is that even possible?" John asked clearly growing frustrated by the minute. Sherlock continued to stare at the spot the two just evaporated from.

"What do they call that?" Sherlock asks turning to look at his brother and Cassandra waving his hands in front of his faces palms out. "Proofing? Dispersing? Vanishing?" the detective guesses his reaction to what he just witnessed incredibly stable all thing considered.

"Disapparate." Cassandra supplies.

"Intriguing." Sherlock states walking over grabbing his coat and scarf.

"Your sister is a talented seductress." Mycroft comments as Sherlock puts his coat on, "Only one other woman has ever gotten my brother this excited - took her four months, faking her death, and some rather saucy love notes for him to share any limited inner workings of his mind. Five minutes and Hermione Granger has him dancing like a trained bear, remarkable. The girl really is brilliant, isn't she?" Mycroft turns asking Cassandra who doesn't look too pleased by his assessment of her baby sister.

"I believe your brother was a trained bear long before he met my sister." Cassandra remarks uncharacteristically to her boss.

Mycroft looks offended.

"Sherlock!" John yells as the man in question jets for the door. Sherlock pauses, turns looking at John clearly confused. "How did she do any of it? The fire, the twirling clothes thing?" John asked again clearly bothered by all he had witnessed.

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, _however improbable_, must be the truth?" Sherlock stated like speaking to a simpleton. How many times had he said those words, yet there John stood slack jawed uncomprehending.

"She's a witch." Sherlock states with all the conviction of scientist that has just proven his most prized theory before turning and strutting out the door.

"Well that was not very nice. Your sister was a delightful girl, not matter how strange." John looked to Cassandra with apologetic eyes before following after Sherlock.


	4. Chapter 4

**Recollection**

Golden brown eyes fixated on a single drop of sweat that hangs perilously low threatening to fall. Curtains of black strings hang in Hermione's peripheral vision but when she turns her head to get a better look there is only pain, burning fire licking at her flesh and all she can do is scream.

Hermione bolts awake falling to the bed in a huff where she had moment ago been levitating in the air. The furniture around her drop in tune, creaking as they hit the ground, the nightstand splinters and the lamp falls with a crash shattering to the floor.

Harry is there barging through her door, wand at the ready, Mad-eye moody would be so proud if he were not dead.

Hermione sets up shaking her head in response to Harry's worry. "I'm fine. Another nightmare." Hermione reassures sitting on the edge of the bed, Harry joins her throwing an arm around her and pulling her into a hug.

"Crucio, again?" He asks, she nods against his shoulder.

"Only there was a before this time, a drop of sweat. The bridge of a nose that was oddly familiar but I can't… everything is too detailed without giving any actual information. It seems the more I try to remember the farther the facts drift, all that is left are impressions." Hermione shares, nuzzling against Harry who lays back adjusting them against the pillows, placing his wand under his before pulling his best friend into his arms.

"Why was he torturing me? What did I do, Harry?" Hermione asks quietly, shifting the blankets.

"Nothing. We still don't know who had you, we can't answer anything else, until we unlock that mystery." Harry pointed out brushing her hair back from her temple. "Now it is time to sleep, will you play?" He asks knowing it to be the only way to quiet her mind.

Harry falls asleep to her fingers playing her new song, the one she stole from Sherlock Holmes, against his forearm.

Whatever had transpired in Brighten between Hermione and Sherlock Holmes had delivered Hermione in a way that Harry had been unable to accomplish. Every day she got better, every night she remembered a little more. There was still an oddity about her that lingered. That peculiarity that Harry cannot explain. It was a slow process but one that gave Harry hope. Her lucidity lasted longer, her ability to vocally express her thoughts and emotions more complex than one or two word sentences.

The biggest progress, however, was that Hermione was cooking again. Her weight gain was gradual, her healthy glow slowly returning.

She had even mentioned getting a dog, another companion to perhaps keep her focuses. Crookshanks turned up his snout at the idea but Hermione spoke of a it often over the next few day...she was obsessed with the idea of a hunting hound.

With the steady progression of her mentality was also came a noticeable control of her wandless magic. Harry had not considered replacing Hermione's wand until Luna brought it up over dinner one night. Hermione's response was a small shrug, but Harry was flabbergasted, he had grown accustom to her using wandless magic he had never contemplated her lack of wand and how having one might help her control her immense power.

That day Harry talked a reluctant Hermione into accompanying him to Diagon ally. She found comfort in the familiar not willing to leave the Lion Claw often and certainly not willing to go to Sunday brunch at the Weasleys. That latter was fine, it gave Harry an excuse to avoid them as well. He was still waiting for Ginny to move out of his house.

Harry side long Apperates with Hermione to the designed place outside the Leaky Caldron; her eyes wide as she takes in her surroundings. Her hesitation melts away in excitement and Harry suspects she hadn't even realized what Diagon ally was until she saw it with her own eyes. It's like seeing is comprehending for her.

Their first stop is Ollivanders despite Hermione's attempt to pull Harry into Flourish and Blotts, he promises her they will go there next coaxing her down the street. People stop to stare whispering Hermione's name behind their hands watching her in a flutter. Harry is relived when they reach Ollivanders and out of the public eye.

Mr. Ollivander is there to greet them with a friendly smile, "Mr. Potter! Miss Granger! To what do I owe the pleasure?" the wand maker asks moving around the counter to shake each of their hands in turn.

"Hermione needs a new wand." Harry states. Mr. Ollivander takes a good look at her then step backs.

"10 ¾'' dragon heartstring, vein wood I remember it well, Miss Granger how it hummed to your presence the moment you walked in my shop. Did you lose it?"

"Yes." Harry answers for her.

Hermione shakes her head. "Wilt." Hermione says looking like she just remembered this useful information. Harry looks at her flabbergasted by her answer.

"When?" Harry asked.

"With what spell?" Mr. Ollivander inquired.

"Time is funny, Harry." she waves her hand at her friend like he should know such things. Her eye brows furry like she is trying to remember the answer to Mr. Ollivander question.

"Not mine." she finally answers.

"Curious." Mr. Ollivander states- again eyeing Hermione stoking his chin, "Let me see what I can do."

**Stalking**

Sherlock spent forty eight hours, after meeting Miss Granger doing research on witches and magic, in attempt to become acquainted with exactly what he was dealing with.

From the internet, library and local herbal store, one truth come to light: any information available to Sherlock was utterly unreliable. Were witches good? Bad? Did they worship the devil and suck the souls of children to live forever? Sherlock knew that Miss Granger did not fit such a disgraceful mold. She was a protector, perhaps a white witch...Sherlock considers holding up a book he was reading from the library on the subject.

John had abandoned him days ago, something about Mary, baby and Doctor. Mycroft had clearly been aware of the existence of magic for some time, trying to shield the truth from Sherlock clearly not believing the detective able to handle certain facts, if the stunt with the piano was any indication. Obviously the fact that magic exited was a well-kept government secret, just one more of many. And logically it made sense to keep such a secret- It would be an easy excuse to blame magic for the world's woes. But Sherlock had seen enough of the world to know that the world turns just as easily without magic and that people were the true evil in the world.

The unexplainable was usually a lot easier to explain at least it was until Miss Granger.

Sherlock contemplated talking with her again. The thought both thrilling him, and frightening him in an illogical way. The memory of touching her knowledge, knowledge that contained things he could not comprehend. It had taken him longer than expected to figure out why, why it scared him. He did not become frightened easily, but the most logical reasoning being the most obvious one. It was unknown, isn't that what frightens even the simplest mind. And when Sherlock had a glimpse at all that Miss Granger contained without the means to understand, he had once more known fear. Even now he was torn between wanting another glance, to see what she hides, to understand what it all means, to touch it without catching fire- and to run the other way without a backwards glance screaming at the top of his lungs.

He had paced outside the Lion Claw for most of the afternoon, trying to decide if he would knock on the door, or return home. He was being reduced to a sniveling coward and it was oddly demoralizing. Sherlock watched the drapes pull back and a small blond woman peek out the window at him, seconds later she was standing on the porch waving him over.

There was not another option but to go speak with her, he would not be a coward…he was not a coward.

"Are you Sherlock Holmes?" The woman asked in a dreamy voice filled with curiosity. Sherlock shoved his hands in his pockets moving to stand at the base of the stairs looking up at her.

"So you have heard of me." He asks trying not to sound too eager that perhaps Miss Granger had mentioned his name.

"Yes...Harry mentioned you might stop by and to not let you in." The woman explained. She was young, perhaps the same age as the two in her care. She was odd, the way her blue eyes watched him, and that pull at her mouth. She was soft, patient and far more observant than what most gave her credit for. She spoke Harry's name with deep respect and Sherlock smiled up at her in a pained way.

"My name is Luna...she is not here just now." Luna says looking to him with understanding blue eyes.

"I should come back later then?" He asks, his question filled with a deeper meaning, which she seems able to read.

"At which time I'll make you tea." She answers and Sherlock nods. So despite her respect for Harry Potter, she would still go against his request.

"That sounds delightful." He tells her with a smile turning and walking back down the sidewalk away from the Lion Claw.

"You are a talented composer, Sherlock!" Luna announces sweetly after him before returning to her house.

Sherlock had not even considered asking her about magic until he was back home in his chair.

Two hours later, Sherlock received a text.

Tottenham Court Road was eight minutes away from his flat. Sherlock entered the pub with a watchful eye. John was still busy- the detective was doing this solo. His homeless network sent him the picture of Miss Granger entering the establishment twenty minutes ago, after he quickly showered and found something clean he quickly made his way to the pub, hopping to run into her. His informant stated that she was not alone, a young man with unruly black hair was with her, and they had yet to leave. Sherlock eyed the pub finding humor in the sign that read The Leaky Caldron, after all the best place to hide something was in plain sight.

He ordered a coffee from the ash blond behind the bar while looking around; the pub was newly refurbished but the structure was hundreds of years old. There was a vacancy sign up above the stair indicating the available room, neither Miss Granger nor Mr. Potter were anywhere in sight so it only lead to believe perhaps they were upstairs in one of the rooms.

"Good afternoon, I'm supposed to meet a friend of mine, a Mr. Harry Potter, have you seen him?" Sherlock asked the woman whose top was ridiculously low showcasing an unflattering amount of cleavage.

"Harry Potter?" the woman is chewing gum looking unamused by Sherlock's inquiry. Sherlock nods watching as the woman prepares to lie.

"I might know a Potter, might not. Who are you? Not anyone I know… you certainly don't belong here. What are you really looking for?" She smacks her gum again eyeing him suspiciously.

"He told me to meet him here, I admit I am running late." Sherlock lies effortlessly. She looks like she might actually believe him.

"I'm Hannah, I run the Leaky Caldron, I know Harry, and he didn't mention meeting anyone when he passed through thirty minutes ago." The woman says picking up a glass and wiping the counter with a wet towel.

"When do you think he will be passing back through?" Sherlock asks with an eye roll. Hannah smirks without humor. "I'm not sure, famous bloke like him doesn't exactly confined in little old me." She says turning away to another customer.

Sherlock looks around for them again to no avail, before turning and sipping on his coffee, it wasn't like he had other plans for the day.

It was interesting what one can learn in a pub. He hears the word muggle directed at him more than once, and it doesn't seem to be derogative, more like a nonsensical adjective spoken with curiosity more than scorn. Hannah did not seem to mind his loitering as long as he was a paying customer while other kept shooting him strange looks. No one approached him, and the pair behind him did not bother curbing their conversation giving Sherlock a bit more information than he bargained for.

They were older men, rough looking in dark clothes, with over grown beards and the kind of stink that suggested a lack of personal hygiene. One hit a table roughly when the other mentioned a dark lord. "Not here." The other growled.

"Malfoy said…" the other trailed off when there was a scuffle and one of them over turned the table.

"Not in here boys, I'm running a respectable establishment, out!" Hannah yelled from behind the bar. Both men turn eyeing her with amusement.

"Yeh, right! Allowing Muggles, really fancy place you have." One snickers, the other pulling at his friends arm.

"Come on, Potter will be back and I don't want that kind of trouble." The other said.

"Potter can suck my…" The other started, when he was interrupted by a man shouting coming from the back hallway.

"Hermione Granger! She is alive, with Potter now! Can you believe it! Merlin preserve us she is alive!" the man called out clearly excited about the discovery.

"I know, Terry. Miss Granger and Potter came through my pub not thirty minutes ago. I was asked to keep it quiet no thanks to your mouth." Hannah asks looking important by her news. The young man takes two seats down from Sherlock. "She looks amazing!" Hannah gossips leaning over the bar.

"Lovely as ever, like an angel." Terry agrees. Hannah places a shot on the bar that the man downs in one gulp.

The door rings and Sherlock looks back to see that both men have fled the bar.

"She's not still seeing Ron, do you think she and Harry finally had a go at it?" Terry asks the barmaid.

"That might explain Weasley's promotion within the ministry." Hannah laughed like the in question man was not worthy of the position.

"As adequate in his profession as Neville in transfiguration." They both laugh like their joke is the funniest in the world. Sherlock has only an inclining of what they are discussing.

The bell on the door rings again and Hannah's drains of color, Terry turns only to whip back around looking frightened. Sherlock purposefully keeps his eye trained forward being able to see Mr. Malfoy perfectly in the reflective glass. The blond take the seat between him and Terry throwing his suit jacket across the bar stool, his hand landing on Sherlock's shoulder as he leans across the bar.

"Fire whiskey, Hannah, and one for my friend, here." the blond demands taking his seat with grace.

"Mr. Holmes." Mr. Malfoy nods as Hannah pours the drinks.

"Mr. Malfoy." Sherlock greets eyeing the drink in front of him suspiciously.

"Please, call me Draco." the business man preens looking up at a glaring barmaid.

"One drink, Malfoy." Hannah sneers looking at the business man like he is the scum of the earth.

"You serve his kind, you can serve me. Chances are my pockets are deeper." Mr. Malfoy say raising the glass to his thin lips. His features are all slops and points as a whole he is handsome, today he is wearing grey with accents of black, looking remarkable unapproachable.

"It is no mystery why you are here. Your goons told you." Hannah says unwilling to leave it alone.

"I'm here for a drink...I have rights, just like non magical. I should not be judged on the merit of my name." he says bored like a well-rehearsed line to make others feel uncomfortable, but there is a lack of conviction in his tone. Still it seems to work on Hannah, she looks uncomfortable, second guessing her own dislike of him. Sherlock picks up his drink letting the burning liquor slide down his throat to keep from smiling at Mr. Malfoy's telling ploy.

"Hannah. I'm going to have a drink with a friend then I'll leave." Draco reassures smoothly.

"Says he's friends with Harry." Hannah states in a way to imply Malfoy is lying. He slams his hand on the bar, a loud cling making Hannah jump. Terry gets up and moves away, everyone turns to look at the fuming blond, well everyone apart from Sherlock.

"Only Potty is allowed friends?" Draco asks in a dominating voice, causing Hannah to scurry off without another word.

"Pathetic little ants." Draco sneers taking another drink from his glass.

"Who would be their queen?" Sherlock asks, Draco smiles, it's a frightening expression.

"Potter." Draco sneers the name. They set in silence both men nursing their drink.

"Can I assume, you are aware to our secret, Sherlock, about the existence of magic?" Draco asks after some time, tilting his head back, his grey eyes looking at Sherlock like he is a curious specimen.

"Yes, Miss Granger wasn't exactly coy about her gifts when we met." Sherlock shares, Draco's lip twitches just slightly at the sound of her name and it didn't take a big leap to know he was here for the same reason Sherlock was.

"Surprising she has always been a model of respectability...Your memory has not been wiped... The ministry has gotten soft. It needs a different leader." Draco Malfoy states with eerie conviction, like he might just be the man for the job.

Again the silence is thick Sherlock picks up a coaster twirling it to make it appeared he is fidgeting.

"You reading up on us, Mr. Holmes?" Malfoy inquires motioning to the book on the bar in front of Sherlock, one that Mr. Malfoy had in his office.

"It all seems a bit farce. Most of it is about human sacrifices, and immortality." Sherlock says, hoping to get this man to open up.

"There is forbidden magic. Not all of which is dark...Exactly. Branches that are looked down upon by our government; mostly due to ignorance." Draco explains this not surprising Sherlock.

"Areas that you dabble in?" Sherlock leads.

Malfoy shakes his head. "In my youth, perhaps. My ancestors were notorious for the mastery in such arts. My father was a disappointment, and I paid the price for his crimes." The blond, pulls back the collar of his shirt showcasing a particularly nasty scar. "I lived, but not everyone had my endurance. Many others parishes under the weight of their parent's sins."

"Then it goes without saying that there is magic on the other end of the spectrum too. Light magic... That heals and protects." Sherlock asks thinking of all the information he uncovered with in his limited resources.

"Sure...there is two sides to every coin. Every Hero has an arch nemesis." Malfoy explains the last part said with a kind of conviction that is telling to a man like Sherlock. After all he has had his own share of arch nemeses.

**Unexplainable**

Ollivander's hand hesitates as he once more passes a wand over watching in frustration and disappointment as it too wilts in her hand. It was the last ditch effort to find a new wand for Miss Granger. Five wands litter the floor, in heart breaking silence, their magic crushed under the weight of what was channeled through them. There simply was not another option, nothing else the wand maker could do to appease his customers. In all his years he had never seen anything like this. A witch without a wand, a wand without a witch.

Besides this was Harry Potter's best friend, the girl that showed so much potential from the moment she walked in his shop at age eleven. Ollivander owed them both his life, and even with them standing there in the middle of his shop in good health looking frustrated, Hermione Granger's torturous screams still haunted Ollivander's nightmares. He wanted to help her, but he was not about to lose more wands in a vain attempt to repay a life debt, there was simply nothing he could do to help.

Hermione was shaking, Harry could see that hopeless expression on Ollivander's face. There was nothing the man could do, he did not have a wand for this witch only he was too afraid to be blunt about their predicament. Harry sighed heavily pulling out his wallet.

"Hermione...lets go to Flourish and Blotts. It doesn't look like we will find answers here." Harry explains setting the money on the counter, paying for all the wands Hermione damaged, Mr. Ollivander shakes his head deny payment.

"There is no need Mr. Potter. This is a first. I just don't know..."the elderly man trails off.

"I know." Harry patiently tells him placing a heavy hand on shop owner's shoulder.

"But please let me help." Harry watches Hermione her eyes misty as she sways humming. With each use of wand, she began to slip in lucidity. Her mind shifting earlier today than it had in more recent days. Something latching on to her ill controlled magic and her mental capacity. Still even standing there after wasting five wands, there is a shallow understanding, she knows that she had failed. In her own head...she was not capable of seeing past the failure obsessing over it allowing it to feed that deep lonely sadness bury just below the surface of her mind.

"It is going to be ok. We will figure it out together." Harry promises her when she turns those big brown eyes on him. "Let's go where the world make sense." Harry tells her wrapping his arm around her shoulder and giving her a small squeeze.

"The library." She whispers laying her head on Harry's shoulder.

"Close enough." He tells her kissing her hair.

**Hello Again…**

Hermione is shocked to see them... Both of them sitting there at the bar chatting like friends. Her attention is on them fully as she makes a bee line path towards them not looking back to see if Harry keeps up. She does what seems like the most natural response to their gawking stare. She back hands one then turns and presses her lips firmly to the others... Harry is gagging behind her.

"Merlin, Hermione...that is just gross" Harry is pulling her back and the man she is kissing says, "Sod off Potter." Hermione opens her eyes looking at the blond that is reaching for her, his lips already puckered. In an effort to ward him off she presses her finger to his lips looking over her shoulder to the curly haired beauty rubbing his cheek. She lets herself smile realizing her error, taking a step back into Harry's arms, she looks over her shoulder to get Harrys attention pointing to both men. "exchange." she explains crossing her arms now pointing at opposite men. Harry laughs pulling her farther from the men she just assaulted. "Good thought you had gone crazy for a second there." he tell her jokingly, understanding she met to hit Malfoy and kiss Sherlock.

"What the hell are you talking about, Potter...she is positively mad! I think I like her better this way." Malfoy exclaims with a smirk winking at Hermione. "Tell me, Granger, what is one plus one?" Malfoy asks clearly enjoying Hermione's failing coherency.

"Too many variables for a proper response." She answers like his question is the most complex math equation ever asked.

"One...plus...one..." Malfoy repeats slowly pointing to Sherlock then herself. She tilts her head looking at a snickering Malfoy like considering the question.

"Three." She answers with finality and Malfoy barks out laughing.

"Oh this is just too much...it's perfect...really!" Draco stands throwing money on the counter.

"This was truly a pleasure. Mr. Holmes my offer still stands." The rich blond says shooting Hermione an entertained expression before sneering at Potter and letting himself out of the Leaky cauldron.

Sherlock's attention is solely on Hermione as she perches on the bar stool Malfoy just vacated. "Synergy." Sherlock expresses, leaning towards Hermione to get her attention. It works, she turns herself around, cinnamon curls bouncing when she nods with an expression of awe. Her eyes light up and she's smiling.

"You see." She tells him and he nods reassuring as she examines the book on the bar.

"Rubbish." She tells him pointing to the book, looking upset over its cover.

"I don't think I deserved that slap." he informs her tilting his head when she smiles in response.

"Transfer of energy..." Hermione begins but Harry is there interrupting trying to pull her off the stool.

"I'm sure you will, Mr. Holmes. You seem like the kind of man that most people want to hit at one point or another." Harry laughs at the detective's expense.

Sherlock grins. "But most do not act on the impulse." The detective explains.

"Well lucky for me, Hermione is currently very impulsive. Though snogging the ferret was unsanitary. You have to brush your teeth when we get home. I don't want to contract anything, you never know where dark wizards have been." Harry lectures to his ward, who has attached herself to Sherlock's arm just as Harry tries to pull her off the bar stool again.

"Can I take him for a walk?" Hermione beseeches to Harry while she grips Sherlock tighter.

Sherlock is consciously aware of the lack of impulse to pull away, he kind of likes her where she is- there is no place safer in the world for her, he ponders.

"I don't think he has all his shots." Harry fakes sympathy, as Hermione pouts releasing Sherlock allowing her friend to pull her away.

"But he is such a smart hound and already trained- Can sniff anything out." She praises looking at Sherlock longingly.

"Don't let his breeding fool you. He is no better than a basic house mutt contracting diseases, humping house plants, and eating out of the garbage." Harry tries to discourage- shaking his head glowering, but Hermione is smiling and she too is shaking her head.

"Come one boy." Hermione calls patting her leg letting Harry pull her out the door. Sherlock is not exactly insulted as he follows, his own curiosity feeding his motives. Sherlock takes Harry's reluctant acceptance as invitation allowing Miss Granger to once more wrap herself around his arm and pull him along beside her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Friend of a Friend**

Sherlock considers the possibility that perhaps he's insane. The longer he is around Hermione the more she makes perfect sense to him. Every motion is deliberate, her body language is the punctuation to her words. Luna has made him tea and he is setting at a little table in the Lion Claw's kitchen with Harry, watching Hermione make dinner.

It's very domestic, the way she floats around the kitchen in her apron with her hair all pinned up as she prepares their meal. Harry is sipping on his tea, his attention on a book in front of him ignoring Sherlock.

Harry had offered to make dinner, when they returned implying that perhaps Hermione was not in the best of state to cook, but the young woman wouldn't hear of it excitedly talking of cooked strands of semolina and crushed lycopene. Harry pulls a disgusted look when Sherlock kindly interrupters, "Spaghetti" the detective acknowledges, again Hermione smiles in awe of him and Harry rolls his eyes over the interaction.

As she cooks she hums, the sound of her actions are fluid and calm like making her own music. Then there is a loud thump, and Harry nearly jumps out of his seat, Hermione has dropped a wooden spoon on the floor, she is staring at it like it is a curious study, and Sherlock is staring at her with the same expression.

Harry looks up his eyes trained on Hermione as she gracefully bends over her fingers butterflying across the handle of the wooden spoon. "It is just a stick." She says like uncovering the secrets of the universe. "It is just a stick." She repeats this time looking up to Harry who nods like he understands. Her brows furry together and she blinks again looking to Harry. "It is easily mended." She tells him and he shakes his head in denial.

"I don't remember it being so easy. Once destroyed it cannot be fixed. Too Powerful." Harry response.

"Not him." Hermione states pointing to Sherlock.

"No he doesn't need one, but he is not like us..." Harry reminds her gesturing to the two of them.

Hermione tilts her head in consideration. "Curious such a word...need. I need your help, Miss Granger...he said...he said." she looks dazed recalling something that was forgotten. Then she moves so fast it is startling: her standing- in front of Harry hand outstretch expectantly. "I need your stick." Hermione beckons.

Harry shakes his head, his left hand gripping his chest. "No you already broke it once." Harry tells her denying her request.

"But it is just a stick easily mended." She reminds him.

Again Harry shakes his head. "No." he tells her again. She looks upset like she doesn't understand his reluctance to hand over his wand.

"I'm sorry but I just watched you lay waste to five wands today... I'm not about to hand you a sixth. Particularly when I am so fond of it." Harry reasons.

"Wand?" Sherlock asks, pulling their attention. Harry looks downright angry at the intrusion, while Hermione tilts her head staring at the detective like taking mental measurements.

"Magical object, Mr. Holmes very personal." Harry states still gripping his chest it is not a huge leap to assume Mr. Potter keeps his in his breast pocket.

"Medium to channel energy." Hermione explains, this Sherlock understands.

"Today you broke five wands?" Sherlock asked his attention not wavering from Hermione.

"Just a stick, easily mended." Hermione repeats, this is an important argument for her.

"No, Hermione, it's not easily mended. Remember you broke mine once, the elder wand was able to mend it. But the elder wand is gone." Harry reminds her, she shakes her head at him like he is wrong.

"What is the elder wand?" Sherlock asks.

"A stick!" Hermione shouts twirling around frustrated returning her focused to the stove top.

"It was the most powerful wand in the world. I used it to mend my wand that Hermione once broke, then I put up to keep safe and out of evil hands. But word got out that I was its keeper so a power mad man tried to kill me for rights to it. I killed him instead...after that I snapped the wand in two and hid the broken parts. To keep it from dark witches and wizards." Harry explained.

Sherlock nodded storing the information Mr. Potter just told him. "So it is just a stick." the detective points out. "Easily broken, possible to mend."

"Yes!" Hermione exclaims twirling back around facing them.

"No, wands have a core that channels the magic. Unicorn hair, Phoenix feather, or Dragon heart string. It is not just a stick, the wood is carefully chosen for each wand. Each wand is unique and magical in of itself- it chooses the wizard. Wand lore is complex. You are over simplifying it." Harry explains clearly unwilling to accept Sherlock's observation.

"Does a wizard need a wand to do magic?" Sherlock inquires.

"Technically, no. There are small accidental magical instance, particularly before a child obtains a wand. Wand allows for control, it's a focal point." Harry reasons.

"I have witnessed Miss Granger preform impressive magic without a wand." Sherlock states.

"Yes well Hermione has always been gifted in magic- in such ways that exceeds even the oldest bloodlines. And she has been able to perform variations of wandless magic since she was fifteen, but she still needed her wand for more complex spells." Harry argues.

"But what if she doesn't." Sherlock challenges, Harry looks confused.

"A witch needs a wand. Her magic is unpredictable. She could hurt someone, or herself." Harry is clearly upset towering over Sherlock, irritated that a non-magical man could presume to understand their predicament.

"Not all. You said so yourself. Cassandra claims Miss Granger is a talented young woman and that even from an early age she would exceeded even her teachers' comprehension of subjects." Sherlock recalls.

"You don't understand what you are talking about." Harry grinds out.

"No you don't understand what you are dealing with. It doesn't appear that Miss Granger needs a wand, she needs focus." Sherlock comes to his conclusion.

Harry shakes his head again, glaring at the detective. "And are you going to teach her to focus her magic?" Harry barks out. "Her mental stability drifts in and out, she can barely focus to form words."

Sherlock pulls a face clearly not agreeing with Harry's observation. "Wrong, you are a good listener, Mr. Potter. But your observation skills need work."

Harry throws his hand up pointing to Hermione. "And you actually like this pompous arse!" Harry exclaims.

Hermione shrugs like her friend is not wrong turning back picking the pan up off the stove and going to the sink to drain the noodles.

"Unbelievable." Harry expresses leaving the kitchen.

Harry is in need of a few minutes to calm down and Hermione seemed completely at ease in this man's presence, which is the only reason he tolerated the nosy detective. Hermione did not seem to trust anyone these days, apart from himself, and now this annoying muggle man.

Sherlock waits until Hermione puts the pan back on the oven to stand, walking over beside her as she pours the sauce in with the noodles.

"You flutter your wings towards the light, without thought to consequences." Hermione sings looking up meeting his eyes. "No I will not show you the flame again, Sherlock, I am busy making dinner." She tells him. And it is discouraging to know that Miss Granger can read him so easily. He wants it, he craves it...the dark...the music...her library.

"I can help." the three words are a plead, a foundation for persuasion.

"You can't help yourself." She states in a whimsical way moving to pull plates out of the cabinets.

Sherlock gravitates towards her taking the plates, setting them on the counter and taking the initiative to fill them while she sets the small table.

"I am not in need of help, currently." Sherlock informs her.

She gives him a disbelieving look, "Your addictions are endless."

"Yet pleasurable." Sherlock tells her setting plates on the table.

"You're an addict." Hermione accuses and Sherlock smiles, because it is true.

"You heard Harry, I could hurt you." She tells him, it is touching...completely ridiculous... But touching.

"Consequences." He resolves in attempt to persuade her.

"I will not feed the animal." She states firmly.

"Then help me train it, and we will both benefit from a mutual endeavor." Sherlock logically suggests.

Still she is looking at him like she is not willing to buy what he's selling. "Price is too high.." she trails off putting the finishing touches on the placements.

"I did not take you for a coward. Miss Granger." He goaded, unwilling to be dissuaded on something that had eclipsed his whole world.

Hermione closes her eyes taking a deep breath, before glancing back up at the detective. "Not for me." She tells him, and he realized that she had not been speaking for herself. The price she spoke of reflecting of him.

The price of what he wanted was too high for him.

He shakes his head, she was wrong...she was the confused one...he knew exactly what he wanted.

"No, Miss Granger. You and I can help each other. Don't you want to know who hurt you and why? Don't you want to make sure they never do it again, to anyone else?" He is selling hard and the emotions that swirl in her eyes tell him that it is working. Her eyes misty and her bottom lip quivers slightly as she tries to not let him see that she hurt from the scab that he just picked at.

"You might live to regret it." She warns him.

"And I might not." he tells her taking her words as acceptance to their newly forged commitment to one another.

Dinner is good. The conversation revolves around Luna and Harry discussing some pop television show that Sherlock doesn't watch. Hermione doesn't seem interested in the conversation either and she is the first to get up and start cleaning up. Harry and Luna continue their conversation as both stand and pitch in to help Hermione. Sherlock excuses himself to the bathroom and then hides out in the living room, never having been one for chores.

Instead he occupies himself with a framed picture on the wall of a group of kids the caption reading _Dumbledore's army_. Sherlock takes the time to look at each face and he is surprised how many he had already met when he was conducting interviews about Miss Granger's disappearance. Hermione is in the center front row sitting on a bench with a boy on either side, each has an arm wrapped around her. Mr. Potter on her left with his messy hair and a grimace, his arm around her shoulders her head tilted towards him. The other young man is a gangly looking fellow, with a freckled face and shocking red hair. This one's arm around Miss Granger's waist and he has a sloppy smile.

Harry walks in the room and Sherlock points to the red head in the picture." Who is he?" Sherlock asks not bothering to turn and face Mr. Potter who comes to stand beside the detective.

"More importantly where is he." Harry bites out adjusting his glasses. "That is Ron Weasley."

"Ah yes the ex-boyfriend." Sherlock recalls from the conversation at the bar he had overheard. Mr. Potter was clearly shocked that Sherlock knew that. "He's not a good looking bloke is he? Doesn't even look overly bright, what did she see in him?" Sherlock asked.

"Hermione and I don't have any family left- the Weasleys became our family."

At this Sherlock turned to eye Harry. "Family is overrated." The detective declared.

"Well my family died protecting me when I was a baby and Hermione blames herself for her parent's deaths so...there was an absence in our lives that the Weasly's filled. But then you wouldn't understand, with your over protective brother and loving parents. Have you ever had to carry the weight of another, Mr. Holmes, or has someone always taken care of you?" Harry asks moving away.

Sherlock has no argument to defend himself, so he changes the subject. "Why does Miss Granger blame herself for her parent's deaths?"

"Hermione has always been able to learn advance magic just from books. In order for her to help me she sought a way to protect her parents, she chose to modify their memory and send them to live out of country. They died in a car crash before she could bring them home. And she blames herself believing if she had sent them elsewhere, they would still be alive. Then there is the guilt that they died not even knowing they had a living daughter. She feels her sacrifice was for nothing." Harry explains.

"Well that is absurd! How can their deaths possibly be her fault? What do you mean they died not knowing they had a living daughter?" Sherlock asks something unsettling about Mr. Potter's statement.

"Hermione is very gifted at memory spells. She completely wiped her existence from her parent's minds. They only remembered Cassandra, still believing her dead." Harry explained. Sherlock paled again feeling an odd sense of anxiety pricking his subconscious.

"Memory spells?" Sherlock asks, not liking the sound of someone having the ability to play around in his head. But this making sense on what else perhaps laid between the sisters' relationship making it a bit more strained than an estranged relationship suggested.

Harry Potter's smile is crooked and his eyes sparkle with amusement, "Yes, Mr. Holmes so perhaps you should use extreme caution next time you think it a good idea to allow Hermione to memory share with you."

"Unethical." Hermione says entering the room, sweeping over to give Harry a reprimanding look.

"I agree, so keep your hands to yourself." Harry tells her with a playful command. She swats her friend on the shoulder with a smile.

"Not a playground." Hermione turns tapping Sherlock's forehead with her finger, perhaps this was supposed to be reassuring. It wasn't

Still it didn't matter, Sherlock was never one to proceed with caution though he was very attached to his head and all the knowledge it held, it was just that what Hermione contained in hers was far too appealing to resist.

"Ginny?" Hermione asks twirling to look at Harry, the young man nods.

"I really would like to go home, despite how lovely playing house with you and Luna have been." Harry says grabbing his coat.

Hermione shrugs with an amused look, she says nothing which disturbs Harry on several accounts.

"Will I be home late?" Harry asks, Hermione nods and Harry smiles.

"Ok then, be good, and if you so choose to turn Sherlock Holmes into a dribbling idiot, please remember his brother is practically the British government." Harry is looking at Sherlock clearly goading the detective.

Sherlock just smiles wrapping his arm around Hermione's shoulder. "So that allows for some leeway." Sherlock declares. "Don't worry, Mr. Potter, we will have a focused evening, only one can guess what we will be focusing on." Sherlock assures the young man, then with a good glare to Sherlock, Harry disapperates.

**Truth: a Rule that Bends**

She swats at him again when Sherlock moves to grasp her hands. They are sitting cross legged facing one another Hermione's eyes are closed but Sherlock is wide eyed watching her ever breath with fascination. He moves to take her hand again and again she smacks him away in annoyance.

It was frustrating, like having to seduce a woman who's skirt you had already been under...only what Miss Granger dangled in front of him was far more appealing than anything Sherlock had ever found under a skirt. That tantalizing library of knowledge that was hidden inside her mind, calling to be explored and plundered.

"Your phone is distracting." Hermione tells him opening her eyes to look at him, an eye-brow quirked.

"My phone is turned off." Sherlock tells her motioning to the device on the table.

"Perhaps you should turn it on." Hermione states eyeing the device looking distressed.

"After I see." Sherlock states, inching closer holding out his hand as invitation. Hermione's eyes lock with his as she shakes her head.

"You already see."

"What do I see?" he asked clearly exasperated by her hesitation on letting him in.

"Everything." She tells him in a quiet voice. Her eyes filled with more emotion than he knows how to read.

"What do you see?" He tries for a different angle.

She seems to be considering the question as her eyes search his. "Loneliness." Is her response.

Sherlock closes his eyes taking a deep breath, searching for patience. He hears her move, and when he opens his eyes she is kneeling over him her hands outstretched. "You don't know what loneliness is?" She asks, her thumbs touching his temples her pinkies at the base of his neck, he feels her press her forehead to his and she is so close he can feel her breath on his lips.

This time he awakes slowly, there is a heaviness to his body and he is unable to fully focus his eyes. It is bright, too bright and he is so cold his body has practically gone numb. Sherlock shift to sit up only he can't, he can feel the weight on his wrists and ankles and when he looks down he realizes he is shackled down with limited ability to move. A door opens and closes, footsteps approach but Sherlock is unable to see anything, it is simply too bright.

"Today's lesson on magic is about focus. You can achieve a great many things Miss Granger if only you have focus." It is a man's voice, distinctive in a way someone would remember if heard again. Sherlock can hear the rustle of clothes as the man moves, then something warm and slimy is placed on his bare arm. "Don't mind my friends...they are only a tool to help you achieve today's adjective. Motivation if you will" the man again speaks, almost reassuring. Then what is on his arm squirms against his skin before sinking its teeth into his flesh, sucking on his veins. Sherlock is more grossed out then afraid, but he can feel Hermione's fear, her stubbornness to not scream when the creature bites. Still his body is heavy and his mind is hazy there is no way for him to knock the creature off. Then another is placed on his other arm, then his legs. "After all, Miss Granger, it always comes back to blood." The man says retreating footsteps follow, then a door opening and closing leaving him alone. This time he feels his own fear, not understanding what he was supposed to do, there is no way for him to stop the creatures from sucking him dry.

Sherlock awakes screaming, his eyes wide as they adjust to the dimly lit room.

No the room is averagely lite...strangely Sherlock can feel his heart racing as his eyes adjust. Miss Granger in front of him his phone in her hand, offering it to him. He looks up with ragged breaths, his mind trying to make sense of what he just experienced, she is wearing an expression of pity.

"You need a doctor." She tells him, passing his phone over and walking out the room without another word.

Sherlock stands eyes fixated on his phone as he tries to decide his next move. His thumb hovers over the on button when the music reaches him, his own composition being played on the piano up stairs. He stuffs his phone in his pocket and follows the music, her music his own appeal to temptation.

The room is dark compared to the rest of the house. The first thing he notices is the book shelf's filled to the max, her very own library. The grand piano is sitting beside a balcony door and Hermione is playing, her fingers dancing across the ivory keys and it surprises Sherlock that she is actually playing, not by magic like she had been at Mycroft's. Her hair bounces to her movements and Sherlock notices a ginger cat laying across the music shelf, apparently asleep.

Sherlock walks over and sits on the bench beside her, like a close friend might do. The music hesitates but she does not stop playing looking up, her eyes asking the question of what he is still doing here.

"It was a man, middle aged, he called you Miss Granger, a title of respect or of professionalism. He called his torture lessons, and he said he needed your help. You knew him- who was he?" Sherlock ask leaning towards her his fingers ghosting over the keys.

"I like this song." She tells him ignoring his question. Sherlock reaches over and takes her face in his hands causing her to stop playing- the music coming up short. "Show me...show me so I can help."

She has tears in her eyes. "Too much pain..." It is clear she doesn't believe he can handle it.

"I know pain." Sherlock vows and he lets go of her face, taking her hands and placing them on his face. "Can you see?" He asks closing his eyes and thinking of all he has endured. His time dismantling Moriarty's terrorist cell, all the torture he endured through his two year journey. He showed her all of it, not sugar coating what he had gone through- the pain, the creativity of those he was the prisoner of, he let her see it all- him ripped to his core at his worse, at his lowest. Showing her exactly what he is capable of handling.

When Sherlock opens his eyes he thinks that perhaps Miss Granger's face is the most appealing thing he has ever seen, her cheeks laced with tears of empathy and then without warning he is ripped forward and dumped back into the isolated bright room of her night mares strapped to a table unable to move.


	6. Chapter 6

**Time is a funny thing**

It is more than pain; its bone crushing, simultaneous skin blistering and melting while being gutted like a wild animal. The intensity of the spell is an art of torturous that Sherlock has no words for still he forces himself to look past the pain- forcing his senses to pick up more than blinding light and the urge to scream for death.

Their captor has black hair, days ago, or perhaps it was hours, Sherlock had caught sight of the stringy black fringe. Then with the high pressure water torture the there was a pungent smell, the only thing that could be picked up past the pain was the hint of decomposing flesh and some kind of cleaning agent.

Sherlock knew this person because on some level so did Hermione. Sherlock could feel her in a way- they were experiencing all of this together. At times they had repelling action on how they coped with the lessons, because while Hermione had lived all of this, for Sherlock he understands that these are her memories and memories cannot truly hurt him.

She was a stubborn little thing, her screaming died out at one point as their captor's lessons continued. It was like she no longer saw the point of it. Now allowing the pain to wash over her forcing her senses out, just as Sherlock had- she was seeing more with resolved anger not permitting the hope of Harry's rescue to diminish as time warped and became a concept she no longer understood.

Sherlock's and Hermione's breaths are raggedly in sync when the _Professor_ finally lets up on the curse, Sherlock can hear him move, feel his presence as their captor stands at the head of the bed, still the light is too bright to see.

The _Professor_ leans down and the black fringe is in clear view, with the silhouette of a nose that is oddly familiar to Hermione.

"I don't take pleasure in hurting you." the man claims his large hand sweeping hair back from their cheek. "But a weapon must be sharpened. Potter is not coming for you. He will never find you." the man vows, again touching their cheek. "You have always been a most avid student Miss Granger, but I truly fear your stubbornness will become our glass ceiling. Accept that he will not come for you...Potter is not the hero in this story..." the man trails off, Sherlock can feel her resistance, that burning hope that she clings to, her own willfulness unbroken. The man sighs deeply "It all depends on you." With that the fire burns again licking up their flesh and Sherlock jerks back unable to endure anymore.

Hermione sits back eyeing him clearly worried. She offers him a glass of water, but Sherlock shakes his head denying the offer. It takes the detective a few minutes to get his bearings, realizing that he is standing pacing back and forth in front of Hermione who is sitting on her piano bench watching him with concern.

"Bed time." She tells him. At the sound of her voice he turns facing her, his heart rate returning to normal, while his mind races with all he has unlocked.

"No, once more." Sherlock insists taking Hermione's hands and pulling her up to stand in front of him. He has seen so much, felt so much and he wasn't about to give up the opportunity to discover more not with being so close. A name flittered along the edge of Hermione's mind. She knew who it was, this _Professor_, whom she labeled, without the ability to give the actual name. It was frustrating for the detective, he wanted answers.

Hermione pulls away looking alarmed as she slightly sways, Sherlock reaches out to steady her- the moment his hand touches her arm he realizes his error, because he actually cares that she looks ragged, in need of sleep. He pulls his hand back and shoves it in his pockets, a safer place, before taking a step away from her, pushing the realization to the back of acknowledgement, schooling his features.

Sherlock's urgency causing him to disturb the carefully constructed ring of salt that Hermione has drawn around her piano. The detective does not ask what the salt is for, in this moment it is not important to him, what is important: is making sure Hermione cannot read what is going on in his head. He cannot give her a weapon against him. But it is apparent that she is not concerned about his inner turmoil. Hermione is upset with him, muttering about ragging Hippogriffs completely distressed about his clumsiness, it is like he has stepped on sacred ground. Sherlock watches as she uses her bare foot to fix the ring of salt he just messed up, her attention fully on her task missing his confusion.

When she is done fixing the ring she looks up shaking her head. "Too tired, go home." She commands waving him off, again, dismissing him like he is an imbecile not worthy of her time. Hermione yaws, stretching before abandoning him alone in her study without another word, or gesture. Sherlock takes a step to follow not willing to be dismissed so easily when she peeks out the door at him.

"The doctor is calling, again." She tells him closing her door before Sherlock can respond.

He has been dismissed and in a way this is more insulting than being treated like a dog. He stands there fuming for a few minutes trying to work down his stupid betraying emotions, forcing himself to not respond or recognize the insult he feels. Because feelings are not helpful, they only cloud judgment and encourage men do stupid things. Sherlock Holmes is not stupid so he does the most sensible thing, following her advice, and lets himself out of the Lion Claw. Luna is waiting in the living room sitting in a chair in a fluffy purple robe, book in hand. She smiles kindly at the detective as he leaves. Sherlock hears the lock click into place and the lights follow leaving the bed and breakfast in complete darkness. Sherlock starts his walk home pulling out his phone and turning it on. He has fifteen missed calls, all from Doctor John Watson.

**Red Hands**

The nightmares do not belong to her: the infant screaming, the blond woman with stained hands, and the doctor with an expression of consorted anger. Doctor or father…either way his features twisted in wrath, his beautiful companion a sharped blade welded with deadly purpose.

Morning comes too soon, and while Hermione sorts through the echoing memory of her dreams she plays her piano. She plays the song that reminds her of the weapon…_he approaches_.

Harry brings her breakfast and with her best friend beside her, the darkness recedes the loneliness is almost forgotten and her nightmares do not look so bleak.

"…Another week." The last part of what Harry says registers and Hermione can fill in the first part with startling ease.

"Ginny stalls, she wants you back." Hermione tells him looking up at his face which is lined beyond his years. He has been through too much…has endured more than a seventeen year old should. Harry is resilient, Hermione considers with a small smile.

"Well, I want my home back." Harry whispers looking down at his hands, his anger vibrating in his tone.

"Home is wherever there is family." Hermione tells him like he is an idiot, her smile taking the insult out of her tone.

Harry's smile is slow, but reaches his eyes when he reaches over and tugs on a curl. "My home is with you then." He admits. "My house though is Grimmald Place and it has wards that the Lion Claw lacks. It is there I can keep you the safest." Harry explains his smile gone.

"Safe and isolated, a man once told me. I prefer love and freedom." Hermione argues and Harry looks concerned by her words.

"What man?" Harry asks, reaching for what she struggles to put into words, that single name.

"_Professor_." Is the name she has, one she had not had the day before. It is not the right one but it will do, the oddity of how well it fit making Hermione feel the comfort of speaking it aloud.

Harry's eye narrow and he nods like considering the name. "Hogwarts?" He offers as pieces to a puzzle which is too vast to see completed.

Hermione considers this but she does not know what a Hogwarts is, the name simply does not fit as nicely as Professor.

"What is a Hogwarts?" She inquires and Harry's face pales.

"Home." He tells her and she shakes her head disagreeing.

"You are home, Harry." Again her tone is dismissive like Harry is the confused one.

"Big castle, changing stair cases, haunting ghosts…peeves…library…Dumbledore…endless adventures." Harry begs desperately, in his state of shock, trying to get any recollection to register in those confused golden brown eyes.

"He's a ghost." Is her answer and Harry feels dread drip down his face.

"How can you not remember Hogwarts, six years of your life? You remember me!" Harry screams. It is the first time he has lost his patience with her, his desperation weighted down by astonishment- clouding his judgment.

Luna is there, standing between them, her kind face filled with pity as she pulls Harry away from Hermione who looks abashed like she did something wrong. "Harry." Luna says his name in a reprimanded way that reminds him of his old Hermione. Tears are in his eyes and he looks away from that familiar heart shaped face filled with hurt…he did that…he hurt Hermione.

"You remember me." He says again straighten himself not entirely sure who he was speaking to.

"Hermione remembers only you." Luna points out and it is clear that Harry was the last to the party…understanding but not comprehending this fact until this defining moment.

"Why?" Harry asks looking to Luna for the answer.

Luna sighs, stepping over to place a reassuring arm around Hermione, who steps away from the blonde's embrace looking with big eyes seeking approval from Harry. Harry feels the full weight of his shame, running his hands through his hair, pisses off at himself.

"Because, Harry Potter, you are the only family she has left." Luna explains making Harry feel like a total idiot. He reaches out and pulls Hermione into his embrace, she relaxes in his arms.

"I am sorry." He tells her and she squeezes him tightly.

"Your actions are conducive to your statement." Are her muffled words making Harry smile, perhaps he is a bit insane himself, he considers when the doorbell rings.

Luna hurries off to answer the door, leaving Hermione and Harry.

Moments later Sherlock Holmes is standing in the door way looking a bit confused by the pair's intimate position. "I had not considered that you two were…together." Sherlock conclueds eyebrows furrowed like it is absurd he had not considered the possibility until now.

"Hermione is not my girlfriend." Harry states firmly, clearly irritated that there is someone else with tunnel vision.

"Many forms of love, not all indicate…together." Hermione states when Harry steps back looing upset by the detective's assessment.

"Glade we straightened that out." Sherlock moves on, sitting himself on the edge of the sofa straight backed, getting down to the business of his visit.

"When I left last night I had fifteen miss calls from a friend of mine," Sherlock started being interrupted by Harry's snicker, when Sherlock looks at Harry irritated- the young man shares his internal thoughts.

"Friends?" Harry asks indicating his surprise that the detective could manage such a feat.

"Well, Mr. Potter, it isn't friends, as you have so cleverly deduced it is simply a friend. A colleague of mine that has helped many times with cases, you met him at Mycroft's, a Doctor John Watson." Sherlock shares his attention now solely on Hermione as if there is nothing else in the room but her presence.

"Doctor. You kept implying I needed a doctor…why would you keep saying that? Mr. Potter keeps suggesting that you are limited in comprehension and communication, and you keep telling me I can see. Doctor Watson's wife is in the hospital in critical condition, she is pregnant and they might lose the baby, a sorry state of affairs causing Jon to call me in distress multiple times last night. I have not made it over to the hospital yet because the car accident with the taxi driver was a curious thing in of itself, raising suspicions that something more sinister had transpired. You keep saying I can see, but I think you comprehend a great many more things, including things that not many others can read. How could you have known John was a doctor, or that he had called me multiple times last night? My phone was turned off, but you kept complaining about my phone. I am going to the hospital this morning and I would like you to accompany me, Hermione." Sherlock finishes and Harry is slacked jaw looking between Hermione and Sherlock gaging his friend's reaction to the detective's rant.

"There is an urgency in your request, Sherlock." Hermione says and she looks concerned tilting her head as she considers the detective's invitation. "I will go put knickers on." She concedes hurrying to her room, leaving the two men to glare at each other in her absence.

Disapparating is not nearly as appealing as Sherlock had anticipated, it left a queasy feeling in his stomach as he straightened himself glaring at Mr. Potter. "Is it always this disorienting?" the detective complains.

"Hermione is better at side-along Apparition, or at least she was." Mr. Potter says looking to Hermione who is surveying the hall way they just appeared in.

"Then why couldn't she be the one to _Puff_ us?" Sherlock inquired nastily with jazz hands, the motion causing his stomach to wrench again.

Hermione looked back at the detective like he was bothering her with his nagging.

Mr. Potter shrugs. "If you want to be splinched I suppose that is up to you." Harry states walking away apparently not impressed with Sherlock's complaining.

"What is splinched?" Sherlock ask Hermione as he braces against the wall, his stomach still upset.

"Pieces left behind." Hermione answers and Sherlock quirks an eye-brow.

"Like…" He doesn't quite understand what she means.

"Like an ear." She says following Harry. At this Sherlock feels that perhaps an upset stomach is better than a missing body part.

Sherlock contacted Molly before heading to St. Bartholomew getting Mary's room number. He pushes past Mr. Potter and Hermione to lead them to Mary Watson's room.

Mary is on the bed looking pale, she is completely awake and there is a noticeable lack of bulge around her middle. John is sitting on a chair beside her bed his face filled with worry.

"So he shows his face." John sounds pissed his dark brown eyes locking with Sherlock's blue ones.

"I have been working, on that case of Mycrofts." Was Sherlock's excuse as he lets himself into the room.

"Right the one about the abducted girl." John recalls reaching over and taking Mary's hand. Mary perks up looking at Sherlock with intrigue.

"A pretty girl?" Mary asks. Sherlock makes a face not willing to discuss it with these two.

"A child, Mary, She is eighteen? She's been recovered, and Sherlock has been fired. Miss Granger is in the care of that bloke who is not too keen on you…what was his name?" John asks turning to his friend.

"Mr. Potter." Sherlock fills in.

"That's right, Harry Potter. Your brother seemed impressed by him, while you were far more intrigued by the crazy girl in the fancy dress." John recalls.

"She is not crazy John, she is complex." Sherlock bites his tongue realizing he had said too much.

"Ooh! Is she cleaver? A pretty, complex girl, Sherlock? Do you have a girlfriend?" Mary teases sitting up straighter in bed, her own worries momentarily put on the back burner.

"Hermione is not my girlfriend, she is a child and…" Sherlock trails off looking behind him realizing that neither Mr. Potter nor Hermione were behind him.

"Hermione is it?" John asks sounding entertained by the implication of what first names presented with the detective.

"A child that you like! But you don't like children." Mary states clearly enjoying the distress on Sherlock's face as he looked out into the hall way with no sign of them.

"The baby?" Sherlock asks too flippantly still trying to locate Hermione in the hall, before giving up and turning his attention back to John and Mary, completely changing the subject particularly to ignore John's inquiry. Hermione and Harry would show up eventually, perhaps she needed to use the loo.

"In the PICU, haven't seen her. Was told she was doing fine and that once she was stable enough they would take us in. They are doing all they can, but she is a few weeks early than what the doctors like. We are told her lungs are not fully developed." Mary updates Sherlock, clearly a distressed mother that has yet to see her baby.

"I am sorry." Sherlock says meaning it. Mary smiles and John's frown deepens.

"Can I talk to you?" John asks standing and moving over placing a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Alone?"

Sherlock nods and Mary looks like this does not surprise her. The men moving out into the hall, Jon closing the door behind them.

"You suspect foul play?" Sherlock asks and John looks furious.

John nods, gesturing with his hands as he talks. "I never would have thought I would regret the decision to toss my wife's history into the fire. I love Mary, I love her and I cannot imagine my life without her, but I don't know what I am dealing with and my own actions may have costs my daughter her life." John shares looking to Sherlock for answers.

"So you think that someone from Mary's past tried to kill her?" Sherlock is not entirely shocked by this but he wonders why Jon would suspect it.

John nods then shrugs. "Mary recognized the man who was the driver of the taxi, his body is in the morgue, and Molly is keeping tabs on it so you can examine it. I need to know my family is safe, will you help us?"

Sherlock looks surprised that John needs even to ask. "Of course." The detective assures his friend.

* * *

The sound of the baby's cry pulls Hermione forward. _A mother searching for her scared child_. It is the baby from her dreams, Hermione is sure of it. Harry like a shadow following her in devotion as she approaches the room with glass windows, babies in plastic cradles deprived of warmth and human contact. Some are sleeping others are crying in protest to their loneliness.

Breaking and entering is not an unfamiliar endeavor for the pair but perhaps doing so into a secure nursery is a bit in bad taste. Still it does not detour Hermione from using charm after charm to force her way into the secure area. Finding the cradle of a pink faced infant with soft, down, blond hair and dark eyes. With sure hands Hermione lifts the squawking infant settles her easily in Hermione's arms. The baby's cries die down as she looks up at the witch with devoted trust. The card on the foot of the crib reads, _Jane Doe_, but Hermione knows that this healthy girl, perhaps a bit on the small side, has loving parents who wait eagerly for an introduction.

A man dressed in black walks around the corner, stopping in his tracks looking surprised by Hermione and Harry's presence.

"What the hell are you two doing in here, this is a closed unit?" the man demands, marching forward towards them. Harry is fast, moving to stand protectively in front of Hermione and the baby.

"I should ask you the same question. You are not an employee, what do you want with this baby?" Harry asks and the man stops looking at them gaging the danger they might impose.

"That baby deserves a chance at a normal, happy life. The monster that birthed her is not fit to be a mother. Just hand her over, and we will find good parents for her." The man says moving closer with outstretched arms.

"And what of the doctor? Is he not a fit father?" Hermione asks holding the baby closer. The man looks affronted and then clearly believing there was no other option he pulls out a gun and points it at Hermione's head.

"Well that certainly persuaded me to hand over a helpless baby to a lunatic that pulls out an armed weapon in a nursery." Harry sarcastically states at the man's audacity.

"I was hired for a job, the Watson's won't even know…I made it so they will believe she died, they will mourn her then move on. The mother's hands are stained red…she is a murder. Hand the baby over, it is what is best for that child." The man says clearly believing his words.

Hermione's eyes swirl with a darkness and Harry has always been quick to the draw his spell hitting the man forcing him on his knees. The gun disintegrating due to Harry's spell as Hermione marches over with purpose standing over the man, her free hand outstretched palm out. "A mission forgotten, a baby unborn, a mother remains lost and a witches scorn." Hermione chants and the man's eyes gloss over, before he shakes his head being allowed to stand. Hermione's and Harry's anger an echo through his confusion.

"Where am I?" The man asks looking around like he is lost. "I don't want any trouble." The man says holding his hands up in surrender clearly having forgotten his purpose.

"You are a criminal, go turn yourself in to Scotland yards." Hermione suggest and the man nods in acceptance turning and running out the nursery in panic.

"I really don't think it is said enough, but you are scary." Harry states flippantly, pocketing his wand, looking over to assess Hermione and the baby.

"Cheryl, doesn't think so." Hermione responds smiling down at the new born that has fallen asleep in her arms.

Hermione's introduction to Mary Watson was by placing her safe, sleeping daughter in the woman's caring, stained hands. Hands that had conviction and purpose as the blond held her daughter so lovingly against her breast.

Sherlock moves to stand behind Hermione, and John sits on the bed next to his wife, everyone's attention on the healthy baby in Mary's arms.

"I don't understand. They told me she was sick." Mary says, examining her child for evidence to false claims.

"Liars. Greed was more appealing than the truth. Your red hands will keep her safe." Hermione's attempt at reassurance caused Mary to look up at the girl alarmed.

Sherlock pulled a face clearly understanding the error, as did Mr. Potter who moved to intervene. But Jon was the first to speak. "Great, no wonder you are so fond of her... Sharing secrets, Sherlock?" John expresses exasperated.

"Please John you do me a discredit…" Sherlock starts to defend himself, his hand firmly on Hermione's shoulder when she interrupts the commotion.

"Can you not see the red?" She asks looking up at Sherlock then back to Harry who is shaking his head.  
"Harry has red hands, and so does Sherlock." Hermione again is trying to sound reassuring.

"Nice girl you got there, mad as a hatter that one." John bits out, reaching over to hold his daughter.

"Some men are blind, to what others can see." Sherlock whispers in Hermione's ear and she smiles in response.

"Very pretty, Sherlock." Mary notices handing the baby to her husband.

"Cheryl is love." Hermione reassures the woman, nodding like she understands the mother praise, completely uncomprehending it was of herself that Mary was complementing.

"Cheryl? Your crazy girlfriend named our daughter?" The Doctor fumed, eyeing Sherlock.

Sherlock pulled another face. "Not my girlfriend." The detective reminds his friend.

"She needed a warrior's name." Hermione defended herself.

"How is Cheryl a warrior's name?" John asked his attention drifting to the boy in the glasses that has not spoken but whose lip twitches clearly entertained in his silence.

Hermione looked up- her eyes fixated on Sherlock over her shoulder as if answering John's question without words. Mary is smiling when Hermione turns back looking fondly at the sleeping baby.

"I love it." Mary declares her hand resting on her daughter's cheek. "Cheryl is perfect." The mother decides.


	7. Chapter 7

**Widen your Gaze**

Molly was staring. All the subtext in Molly's eyes was louder than if she actually said it aloud. It was distracting to Sherlock as he tried to examine the dead body in front of him

"Coffee!" Sherlock exclaims purposefully keeping his attention on the corpse when Molly jumps, turns glaring at him.

"Mr. Potter would you like a coffee?" Sherlock asks almost politely.

"Black. Hermione will take a bit of creamer in hers." The young man informs Molly, who nods. Sherlock can practically hear her eyes roll. "Thank you." Mr. Potter says when Molly moves to gather their order. Molly stops to look over her shoulder directly at Hermione who is examining the dead man's crushed face with extreme thoroughness, before Molly leaves; her expression an open book to her thoughts.

"A simple miss understanding." Hermione concludes leaning back from the dead man on the table balancing on the ball of her heels.

"I agree." Sherlock looks up from collecting his own conclusions. "This man was retired, this was a chance meeting in the taxi. Both retired operatives recognizing each other, the Mr. Kraal Gru," Sherlock indicated the dead man before continuing, "Made the first move forcing Mary to react, to protect herself. Only the man drives the taxi off the road causing the accident. When Mary was disoriented he must have contacted someone giving away Mary's allies."

"That is before Mrs. Watson used a flat object to bash in his face killing him instantly. The damage of the wreck will cover up any implications that it was murder." Hermione added and Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"But Mary is still in danger, I have to find out who Kraal Gru really was and who he could have shared Mary's information with." Sherlock says looking to Hermione like expecting more answers from her.

It is Harry that cuts in. "Already taken care of, Hermione modified the memories of man who tried to abduct Cheryl, the man now believes Mary and the baby died in the hospital shortly after the wreck. I already modified document to reflect this alternate story. Anyone that goes searching for them will come away with a severe head ach and a small gap in memory loss."

"You can do that?" Sherlock asked impressed.

"I'm Harry Potter, I can do whatever I want." It is a pretty clear that while this is said as a joke, Mr. Potter is completely serious.

"The barmaid called you a famous bloke, why is that?" Sherlock ask moving around the gurney to look Mr. Potter in the eye.

"I killed a genocide maniac that plagued the wizard community for twenty years. Called himself Lord Voldemort, was obsessed with immortality and cleansing the world of muggles and non-magic born witches and wizards." Harry answers in a detached way.

"Is he the one that murdered your parents?" Sherlock asked knowing the answer.

"That's the one." Hermione declare finding her voice bouncing up with her arm in the air like an egger student that knows all the answers. _Know-it-all_; Sherlock can practically hear Mr. Malfoy proclaim.

Sherlock shakes his head letting his thoughts drift back to the bar, "What is a muggle?" Sherlock wants to know having forgotten to ask earlier.

"A non-magic person." Harry fills in shaking his head at Hermione who is now picking at the dead man's eyes. She looks abashed going to the sink, removing her gloves and quickly washing her hands.

"I am a muggle." Sherlock concludes taking his gloves off and joining Hermione at the sink. When they are done, she threads her arm through his. Sherlock thinks he can see the reflection of her library in those big brown eyes; he wonders when she will let him explore it again.

"A muggle that can see." She tells him, like she is proud of his achievement.

"Hermione and I should get back home, come on." Harry says motioning towards the door.

"You hover Mr. Potter." Sherlock comments as Hermione steps over to take Harry's arm instead.

"Helicopter Harry!" Hermione squeals, giggling at her joke.

"Funny, real funny." Harry responds drily wrapping his arm securely around a smiling Hermione.

"We will go for another walk tomorrow!" Hermione tells Sherlock with a serious face, again tries to sound reassuring. Then Harry Dissapparates taking her with him, before Sherlock can respond.

Molly walks in with the coffee they ordered looking surprised to find Sherlock standing alone in the morgue, a strange expression on his handsome face.

"What happen to your friends?" Molly asked setting the coffee tray down before handing Sherlock his with sugar.

"They had to disperse. Thank you for the coffee, Molly. Can I trust you can get rid of the body?" Sherlock asks with a wave of his hand, not bothering to comment on any of the telling signs that were so blatantly in his face, such as the lipstick Molly refreshed while away. Ever since her cancelled engagement she started making those eyes at him again. Sherlock left before Molly could answer his question and before she could ask any of her own.

Sherlock stops by Mary's hospital room reassuring the Watson family of their safety before hailing a taxi back to Baker St.

There is a black limo waiting outside Mrs. Hudson's establishment, a lanky man in a black suit with kelly green accents, climbs out the passenger side when Sherlock approaches. "Mr. Holmes, Mr. Malfoy would like a word." The man politely says opening the back door, a silent command for Sherlock to get in.

"I am very tired, tell Draco I will stop by his office next week. Pen me in for Thursday at two, wouldn't want the toad to croak." Sherlock states irritable, pushing past the man up to the front door of his home.

"Mr. Malfoy is a very busy man…"

"I do not work for Mr. Malfoy," Sherlock yells turning to look at the man whom has a square jaw and hazel eyes. Sherlock pauses for effect waiting for the man to tell the detective his name.

"Theo." The man supplies.

"Theo, I am an independent consulting detective, which gives me the freedom to choose my clients and how I send my time. And right now you are a waste of my time." Sherlock practically growls.

"It is exactly how you choose to spend your time that worries Mr. Malfoy." Theo states closing the door he was holding open.

Sherlock smirks, "Yes, it would. Your boss seems surprisingly obsessive over the girl. Why is that?"

"Granger does not concern you any longer, she is safe with Potter. No reason to get involved. Mr. Malfoy would like you to end your acquaintance, now that the business transaction is no longer necessary." Theo delivers the message with a kind of detached formality that makes Sherlock want to roll his eyes.

"Oh…but I like Hermione. I like puzzles, she is just…what is the right word?…ah…intriguing." Sherlock plays it up, he is truly fond of Hermione but the way this man's eyes flash is enough for Sherlock to keep pushing. "Tell me Theo, did Malfoy promise you his sloppy seconds to ensure your loyalty?"

Theo is surprisingly calm when he responds. "I don't settle for table scraps, Mr. Holmes. And my loyalties, well they have never been in question. You are not the only one with spies. You're not the one that knows how to play games and win." Theo's full lip twitches and then he finishes. "I will tell Draco to expect you next Thursday, then. Be sure to come alone…I don't think either of us would be too pleased if your new interest accompany you." With that Theo climbs back into the limo and it drives away leaving Sherlock with more to ponder.

Sherlock is sitting in the sandwich shop below his apartment a week later. Thoughts of Hermione occupying his head, as he wonders if he should call her, or if he could just stop by the Lion Claw without real reason.

That is when Mr. Potter walks through the door alone taking a seat across from the detective.

"I need your help, Mr. Holmes." Harry starts, his vivid green eyes fixed on Sherlock's face his dead span expression telling more than the young man thinks it does.

"Should I assume you are a new client, then?" Sherlock asks taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Not exactly. It's about Hermione." Mr. Potter states and Sherlock rolls his eyes

"Of course it's about Hermione, why else would a man like you have need of someone they can barely stand the sight of. You only tolerate me because of her." Sherlock states without emotions. This was not personal it was just facts.

"You like her. More than like her if I'm not mistaken...you don't seem like the kind of man that likes many people." Harry observes.

"Make your point." Sherlock hurried Harry along, no need for the formalities of social etiquette.

"Hermione likes you too. I know she shows you things..." Harry trails off like putting this into words is a difficulty.

"No more than she shows you, I'm sure." Sherlock states trying not to sound like this irritates him.

"She doesn't show me anything...not since Brighton." Harry admits in a frustrated whisper. "I need to know what she has shown you, I need to know what she is shielding me from."

"What makes you think she is hiding anything perhaps she simply doesn't want you stomping around in her head?" Sherlock asks keeping up the pretense that this information bores him.

"Because I know her. Perhaps better than anyone else in the world. I know that she is always trying to help others bare the weight of their troubles, while she suffers alone. Yet she lets you in. I know why she lets you in, because she knows, at the end of the day you don't give a damn about her, not really. You like her but you don't love her…you don't love anyone. You are objective and detached, clinical even. You're highly rational like her and that is what she finds so appealing about you."

"So why then should I tell you anything? A have plenty of secrets, Mr. Potter, what are a few more." Sherlock logically asks, not at all bothered by Mr. Potter's observation.

"You should tell me because I know her. She might have shared something with you that you don't understand the context of or the importance. Were as I will, she needs someone on her side that loves her." Mr. Potter claims.

"No." Sherlock's answer is quick unhesitant after Harry's plead.

"No?" Mr. Potter seems surprised by the detective's response.

"No." Sherlock calmly states again, unwavering.

"Why, may I ask?" Harry asks running a hand through his already messy hair.

"I don't need a reason." Sherlock smiles just to irritate the boy.

This was obviously not what Harry Potter was expecting.

The young man is silent taking off his glasses and cleaning them, placing them back on his face and sighing heavily. Then Mr. Potter pulls out a thick text book and places it on his table. The cover reads _Hogwarts: a History_.

"Hermione does not remember Hogwarts; our school. It is where we met, where we became friends. It is where we became family. It is a magical school in Scotland, and it is just another secret to add to that vault in your head. I would like to leave you with this book. It is about our school. She won't even look at it, I was hoping that you could perhaps get her to look at it or read it. Seeing seems to be comprehending for her, maybe if she would read a few pages she would start to remember more." Harry finishes, he stands to leave looking down at Sherlock like a man desperate for answers. This was something that Sherlock was used to dealing with.

"I'll see what I can do." The detective says as casually as he can manage. Watching out of the corner of his eye as Mr. Potter exits the shop. All the while Sherlock wonders how soon he can get over to the Lion Claw, without seeming too eager, now that he has a reason to see Hermione again.

Sherlock waited until the next morning stopping by to check on Jon and his family before finding his way to Lion Claw. There is a man in the front yard working in the flower beds. As Sherlock approaches the man looks over and Sherlock is surprised he recognizes the long solemn face of one of the friends he had interviewed months ago. The man stands brushing the dirt from his hands then with a smile calls out to the detective offering a dirty hand for Sherlock to shake.

The detective does so while trying to remember the man's name. "Neville Longbotton." The gardener supplies with a small nod.

"Most people don't remember my name, its fine. I'm actually glade I ran into you, been thinking about paying you a visit. Harry filled me in on what he asked of you, and well I kind of agree with Harry that you may not be qualified to help Hermione, you're a muggle and Hermione did mention the book…" Neville trailed off looking unsure of Sherlock's glare. Most people knew better than to underestimate him, but these people had no concept of the acuity of information Sherlock understood.

"No…Ok… let me start again. I want to help. Hermione has chosen you over everyone else for a reason. And I respect that because it is Hermione, and I trust her judgment over all else." Neville pauses to gather his thoughts and Sherlock recalls the joke the two at the bar made of this young man. "My parents were tortured to the point of insanity. My grandmother raised me because an evil witch who is now dead thought it would be fun to use the cruciatus curse on them again and again. There is forbidden magic, Mr. Holmes, I don't know if you have been told that. But there are rules and one of the biggest ones is never to use an unforgivable spell. There are three, the cruciatus curse is one of those spells. The cruciatus curse is the torture spell that was used on Hermione, again and again. It is the worse pain imaginable and in time the pain is all that one can comprehend. Destroying even the most intelligent mind." There are tears in this young man's eyes and Sherlock tries to understand what it must mean that Neville Longbottom is sharing this aloud. "Harry has hope that Hermione can be restored, but there is no cure for the effects of the cruciatus curse."

"No cure that has yet to be found, Mr. Longbottom." Sherlock points out.

The young man looks surprised by this account. "Well No… I suppose you are right." Neville seems to hesitate on admitting this.

"Mr. Potter assures me that Hermione is exceptional. Beside, Mr. Longbotton, anything lost can be found if only one knows where to look." Sherlock comments pushing pass the gardener and up the deck to knock on the front door of the Lion Claw.

Luna answers the door with a smile, "She is in the kitchen." Luna directs and the detective nods moving past to make his way to the kitchen.

He expects to find her floating around the kitchen making lunch, instead the she standing over a boiling cauldron, the table methodically covered in odd ingredients as she pushes the hair from her face looking frustrated.

"Two…then three…" Hermione is mumbling, holding onto a pair of prongs surveying the contents of the table. She looks up when Sherlock walks in, looking unsurprised by his arrival before turning her attention back on whatever she was doing.

"Healing potion." Hermione answers Sherlock's unspoken question.

"Potion?" Sherlock asks walking over to get a better look at the ingredients.

She nods and a curl comes undone loose from a pin falling to lay along the back of her neck. "Going to need it." Hermione tells him picking up something slimy with her prongs and adding it to the bubbling mixture.

Sherlock is reading the recipe when she picks the concoction up with what looks like crucible tongs and carries it over standing impatiently in front of the refrigerator looking at Sherlock expectantly.

"Oh.." Sherlock realizes, hurrying over to open the door for her.

"There is no room." Sherlock states looking in the refrigerated noting all the left over Tupperware.

"Make room." Hermione commands, Sherlock smiles because this was really actually funny. How many times had he thrown out perfectly good milk to make room for an experiment? He does as he was told emptying out the second self and rearranging things to make room ducking out the way for Hermione to place her potion.

She sighs with the door is closed. "Good boy." She praises him, patting his cheek with a bare hand. The smile falls from Sherlock's face as he glares at her. She giggles in response to his irritation.

Hermione is quick to clean up, storing everything in air tight containers and placing them in a cabinet. Then she turns to give her undivided attention to the detective.

"What should we do now?" Hermione asks with an alluring tone, like she knows exactly what he wants to do. Sherlock strokes his chin playing along, like he too is considering their next adventure.

"Must be something important, perhaps research?" She suggest her eyes dancing with apparent glee.

"Then we must go to the library." Sherlock states tilting his head as if considering this a great inconvenience.

"Yes but it can't be just any library, it has to be one filled with the information we need." Hermione reminds him and Sherlock nods agreeing with her. Then she takes his hand, her nimble fingers threading through his, fitting together like puzzle pieces and she is pulling him upstairs.

She lets go of his hand and Sherlock goes over rearranging the chairs in the corner to face one another when Hermione goes to her room, settling himself in one, waiting for her to return. His back is to the door and he hears her walk in, seconds later a large book is dumped in his lap as Hermione takes the chair across from him, settling herself comfortably before opening her own massive book completely ignoring him as she begins to read.

It is really difficult to confuse Sherlock Holmes, but he finds he is utterly bewildered looking down at the book in his lap:_ The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_. Sherlock really can't help but smirk somewhat entertained by Hermione Granger.

"So you were thinking a more physical library. You have one of those in your room do you?" Sherlock asks amused.

"Don't you?" She asks with a smile, the cheeky girl.

"Of…" He starts a rebuttal when she looks up irritated.

"Not much time, to learn. You have a late start." She informs him before returning her attention to her book, dismissing him.

Sherlock opens the first page and begins to read.

It is a fast easy book to read, the theories easy enough to understand due to the author's knowledge and what Sherlock has already uncovered for himself. It also straighten out a few miss understandings between actual magic and supposed magic.

Just as Sherlock closes the book finished, the front door rings and Hermione stands her attention on the hall as if she is waiting for someone.

Footsteps ascend the stairs and Sherlock stands too, "Harry?" Sherlock ask, Hermione is already shaking her head.

"No one as dangerous. Sniveling coward, an annoyance really." Hermione tells him placing her book on the chair before walking over to stand in the middle of the room.

Three big men walk through wearing an array expression of irritation and annoyance. One of which Sherlock recognizes as Theo, the young man that works for Draco Malfoy, it's not a huge leap to assume the other two are in Mr. Malfoy's employment as well.

"You missed your appointment with Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Holmes." Theo informs standing in the center of the two other men, both looking like gorillas in suits.

"I had a more pressing engagement one that I'm sure Mr. Malfoy will understand." Sherlock states motioning to Hermione who is standing a few feet away from him her eyes locked onto Theo's face. Sherlock knows that expression but she is wrong, Theo is not the threat, and the other two are. They are ignore men and ignorance breeds stupidity and stupidity is dangerous.

"And when were you wanting to reschedule?" Theo asks politely the edge in his tone suggesting the threat.

"I am a very busy man, as I'm sure Mr. Malfoy is, perhaps it is best we leave some implications left unsaid." Sherlock says inching over to stand closer to Hermione still too far away from her for his comfort.

"Snakes and dogs only have one common enemy." Hermione sings, and Theo for the first time since entering the room actually looks at her, his expression reads what everyone else keeps saying, this man thinks Hermione Granger has lost her marbles.

"No one asked you to speak, you filthy little mudblood!" The man closest to her growls. His voice grinding out like his IQ could hardly sustain the weight of his own words. He is an ugly looking fellow with jagged teeth and coarse black hair. As the man speaks he backhands Hermione with a force that whips her head back and she crumples to the floor.

It is a fundamental rule of physics: every action causes an opposite and equal reaction.

Unless you cross Sherlock Holmes.

_**Snapped arm, crushed larynx, broken nose, thrown out the window **_

Glass shatters followed by an audio splat as Sherlock gracefully crouches down next to Hermione checking her for injury. She is just sitting up: bright red blood smeared up from her nose and across her cheek, it has been a matter of seconds. Sherlock notes her split lip and the bruising that is already forming on her pale skin when he turns his murderous expression on the two remaining men.

Theo is smirking, clearly unaffected by one of his men being thrown out a window, the other man has a stick pointed at Sherlock, his eyes wide and filled with fear.

"Put that away, Crabb and go check on Flint." Theo orders, the man nods his eyes still locked on Sherlock as he backs cautiously out the room before turning and running down the stairs. "I apologize, I have warned Draco about using idiots for diplomatic situations. I'm quite positive that Mr. Flint will unfortunately not make it to the hospital after sustaining such life threating injuries. I will be in touch, Mr. Holmes." Theo states leaving with composure.

Sherlock runs over to the window watching as Theo pulls out his wand and with a silent spell levitates the man that Sherlock threw out the window into the waiting limo. When they drive away Sherlock turns his attention back to Hermione, who is standing with a wet wash cloth pressed against her face.

"Didn't your mother teach you to turn the other cheek?" Hermione asks, the tears in her eyes making Sherlock want to pay Mr. Draco Malfoy after all and show him exactly what he think of such conduct.

"Perhaps, but instead I choose a higher road, Hermione Granger." Sherlock says his gaze lingering on her wounds.

"Which is?" Hermione asks as Luna enters.

The land lady waves her wand using the words hualos repairo fixing the window before passing Hermione a mug.

"The nose." Sherlock comments and Hermione laughs causing Sherlock to laugh too. It is this moment that causes Sherlock to pause and check over the data that has be building since the moment he heard the name Hermione Granger, and the single conclusion frightens Sherlock on a very basic level.

He just threw a man out the window for her…

Hermione wincing in pain, as she carefully brings the mug to her lips, and again Sherlock feels that building antagonism that someone, anyone would dare to hurt …her.

Luna watches worried as Hermione drinks, the blond nodding with a smile, as her friend's bruise cheek and split lip heals instantly. Luna takes the mug back and leaves them alone as Sherlock tries to calm his mind watching in fascination as magic mends what was injured.

It is the first time he has witnessing such magic and it does not help calm the detective to know that her battle wounds can be covered up so easily.

Healing her does very little to diffuse Sherlock's anger, and this shocks him on a completely different level.

Hermione's eyes are still misty when she smiles at the detective. "Now where were we?" She asks moving back to her chair acting as if what just transpired was nothing out of the ordinary, taking her seat and opening her book.

Sherlock stands there watching her, his heart hammering uncontrollably and he nods before turning towards the door unable to let magic be the answer to such an indecent affair. "I have to go." He announces, Hermione looks at him questioning before nodding like she understands.

"Ok, tomorrow, then?" She asks and Sherlock can only shake his head perhaps to clear the indiscernible war going on in his mind.

"I am very busy Miss Granger." He informs her the detected formality of her name meaning more to her then his sudden peculiar actions.

"You know there are more important things than books and cleverness, Sherlock." Hermione tells him. Sherlock not willing to hear the rest simply nods and flees from the girl that has compromises his entire world.


	8. Chapter 8

**Infectious**

By the time Sherlock make it to that impressive glass building his anger had completely diffused. Standing at the cross walk waiting for the light to turn green, he decides that Malfoy can wait. Mr. Malfoy's obsession teetered more on keeping Hermione safe, and there really was no doubt, in Sherlock's mind that once Malfoy discovered the conduct of his employee the ruthless blond would act accordingly. So instead of walking across the street, Sherlock takes a left, ending up at the Diogenes Club.

It is the perfect quiet place to hear oneself think.

Sherlock pondering on Hermione and the problem she presents, when Mycroft places a hand on his brother's shoulder and motions with his head towards the Stranger's room.

"You care about the girl." Mycroft states when they are seated, a sly smile on the older brother's face.

"I don't see how caring is an advantage." Sherlock bites out clearly irritated by Mycroft's observation.

"You seem surprised, this is not an isolated incident. If I recall correctly you threw a man out a window for Mrs. Hudson and shot a man point blank in the head for Dr. Watson and his wife. Please Sherlock your emotions were compromised a long time ago, only now you see it." It's a haughty reply like Sherlock was the idiot unable to see the evidence right in front of his face.

"That's different, there are certain levels of obligation to John and Mr. Hudson, they do serve their purposes, but this girl...she is a distraction." Sherlock reasons, palms together his fingers covering his mouth as he considers Mycroft's claim.

"It is called attraction. You are a chemistry major surely you recognized the physical signs. It's just sex Sherlock."

"I am not scared of sex, Mycroft." Sherlock responds in a snotty childish tone.

Mycroft simply shrugs unbelievingly to Sherlock's claim.

"Besides this has nothing to do with sex. Someone hurt her and they are still out there- I have to find them." Sherlock logical concludes, dismissing Mycroft's conclusion once and for all.

"So you want to be, what, her champion? Her protector? If I am not mistaken, Miss Granger already has one of those." Mycroft points out.

"The boy is weak, he think caring makes him strong." Sherlock says like this is not a reflection of what battle is ragging inside the detective's mind.

"But we know better. Don't we, brother?" Mycroft again has that sly smile on his face like he is superior to his stupid little brother.

"I don't..." Sherlock begins to defend himself when Mycroft cuts across standing.

"Of course you do... You have never been good at hiding what you feels, not with me. And if your jealousy is not telling enough than perhaps we should take a closer look at the cracking anger in your eyes when you speak of Miss Granger in harm's way. Your heart has been compromised, but then perhaps it is more about the allure of the forbidden. Perhaps Miss Granger and her magic is just another addiction that you will grow bored of in time." Sherlock can feel his pulse rise at Mycroft's suggestion.

The detective stands his eyes steel as he looks his brother in the eyes offended that Mycroft would speak of Hermione in such a way. Mycroft smirks and Sherlock turns leaving before the urge to punch the British government in the face is too much of a temptation to back down from.

It was a mistake going to the Diogenes Club.

Sherlock's flat was a much more ideal place to think. He sat in his chair the coffee table in front of him staring at the book Mr. Potter had given him. The huge text was completely blank apart from the cover: Hogwarts: a History. It was absurd, how could Hermione read a book that was empty. No wonder she wouldn't even indulge her friend by thumbing through it. Sherlock glared at the book like it was the enemy, he picked it up again quickly flipping through the blank pages before tossing it back on the table. _No he was the absurd one_…He had to find something to do, he needed a distraction.

He went to the kitchen opening the refrigerator eyeing the ingredients for his next experiment deciding now was as good as time as any, Sherlock moves to the kitchen table where he has a make shift lab set up.

He stands there staring at the set up silently for three seconds, the recollection of a lone curl falling gracefully from its pins laying across Hermione's neck as she worked on her own potion surfaced, and Sherlock no longer felt inspired to do his experiment.

He leaves everything on the table walking over to his true solace, picking up his violin and playing- not get through half a bar when he groans frustrated setting the instrument on its stand trying to shake out the soft notes of Hermione's piano that drift into his memory with complete harmony to his violin.

Instead he takes a seat at his laptop scrolling through possible cases, deciding that this, perhaps, is his best option to take his mind off that…girl.

**Hexes and Exes**

The things Hermione Granger does for love.

A busy pub was certainly outside her comfort zone.

Harry dragged her to a restaurant in Godric's Hallow that Ginny waited tables at, pedestrian stares aside, Hermione found a bit of consolation at the bar with Harry just inside her peripheral vision. Hary was in a heated discussion with Ginny- she still refused to move out of Harry's house and it was getting to a point that Harry would have no other option but to go to the ministry. Because Hermione knew he wouldn't take her advice on how to get rid of the squatter; Harry was too nice of a guy. Hermione turned her attention to the Shirley Temple she was sipping on it really needed another drop of grenadine. She leaned over the bar to help herself while the bartender's back was turned that was when she noticed a freckled face walking towards her with a look of determination. She decided against the grenadine throwing her drink back and waving to the bartender; she was going to need something stronger. "A Carmel apple, Dean."

Dean Thomas looks over at his ex-class mate with a sweet and apologetic smile on his face. "Harry said nothing hard."

"Cider is not hard alcohol, just something to keep me warm." Hermione tells him waving him off. He begins to argue again, she gives him a condescending glare. "I'm a grown woman, I don't need Harry Potter telling me what I can and cannot get drunk off of!"

With that Dean meekly nods pouring the drink and placing it in front of her, Hermione makes sure to tip him well.

Ron takes the stool next to her ordering a butterbeer attempting not to stare and failing.

"Do you know who I am?" he asks with a tone one would use on a simpleton.

"Ronald Weasley, Ginny Weasley's brother. Harry says we dated." Hermione turns in her seat giving the young man her full attention, watching as he fidgets.

"Yes. We did…I am seeing someone else now." Ron admits his looks pained to admit this aloud. "Harry says you met someone too, a muggle."

Hermione doesn't bother answering his stupid unspoken question, Ron Weasley does not deserve to know about Sherlock.

"Are you always this twitchy?" She asks watching as he fumbles with the glass in his hand.

"Look, I don't know what to say to you, but Harry says you are doing better. Progressing…he says, and well the ministry needs him... I need him." Ron admits his insecurities making it impossible for him to look her in the eye.

She cocks her head there is something about his red hair that seems to hold her focus. "You have red hair." She states aloud, like it is a truth that she just noticed. "Your sister has red hair too."

Ron glances at her from the corner of his eye catching that fascinated look on her face, she reaches over slowly, deliberately allowing him the chance to pull back, but he remains still allowing her to runs her fingers through his red locks.

He closes his eyes and there is a tear on his cheek, this confuses Hermione and she snatches her hand back, standing to look over Ron's head to Harry.

"They have red hair!" She yells across the room interrupting the jostling sound of the restaurant and Harry's argument with Ginny. Ginny shoots her a disbelieving look as Harry turns his full attention to Hermione, he is at her side retraining her arms as she tries to wave about yelling, "Red hair! They have red hair!" Harry again, tries to calm her down, agreeing with her, whispering in her ear as he guides her out of the restaurant.

Everyone gaping at the lunatic Hermione Granger has become. Harry doesn't get to finish his conversation with Ginny, more important things are at hand as Harry Apparited outside the Lion Claw, Hermione still screaming about red hair.

Luna is drawn to the noise taking Hermione's other arm as they help her into the house both trying to reassure her. Hermione realizes that neither of them understand and so she stops trying to make her point, when Luna places a cool wash cloth on her head and demands she lays down. Hermione lays there wondering what happen to her hound, he always could see what others were blind to, he would have understood.

**Case of You**

Sherlock sets in his chair listing to their latest client's story as John take notes. The new father diligently scribbling down useless information as Sherlock listens with impatience. "Wrong car, and hot wiring the ignition does suggest an intent of criminal activity." Sherlock comments looking at the young man closer. The man squints in response. "Lost my keys, I thought I was hot wiring my own car." The man defends himself.

"Glasses and a good lawyer." Sherlock hands the young man a lawyer's card dismissing him.

The next client is a ten year old boy with shocking blond hair whose cat ran away. An easy enough case; covered up by the insensitivity of parental lies and an ailing feline.

Next was a dark haired man dressed in a posh suit that had been patched six times. The man's long greasy hair was tied back in a ponytail and along with the sheen coat of perspiration on his face, Sherlock could easily assume the man was not well off. The electricity and the water of his flat has been turned off recently, so the daughter ran away to make it less stressful for the man to support himself let alone a teenage daughter.

John slams his note book shut, glaring at Sherlock. "What's wrong?" The doctor ask pointing his pen at the detective once they are alone.

"Don't know what you mean." Sherlock looks bewildered by John's question.

"No?" John asks disbelieving. "Then why are you wasting your time on these petty cases when you should be out there working on the case that Mycroft and Cassandra hired you for. Isn't Miss Granger still in danger?"

Sherlock shrugs. "She's safe with Harry Potter."

"Is she? Then we can take all this down, if the case is solved." John says moving to the wall of knowledge which is still plastered in pictures, notes and letters concerning Hermione Granger's case.

"Don't" Sherlock demands bouncing up to stand between John and the threat he presents to the web of lies surrounding the girl.

John smiles. "No? Why not. You are moving on, avoiding the case, or are you avoiding something else?"

"What would I be avoiding John? A mentally compromised child and her annoying baby sitter? Please I can work Miss Granger's case without being involved with her." Sherlock bites out turning his back to the doctor.

"You really do like her, don't you?" John ask staring at his friend like he cannot believe that Sherlock would actually like anyone.

"What no." Sherlock denies in a blatant lie one that John raises an eyebrow to in repose.

"Well I think she is lovely." John tell his friend.

"Course you would. Your baby would be thought dead, being raised by strangers if it weren't for Hermione." Sherlock points out.

"Miss Granger, you mean." John says with a smile. "Well there is that, yeh...but I like how she makes you act almost human. Is it true you threw your music stand at Mrs. Hudson when she asked you to play for her?"

Sherlock turns glaring at John, "Not an isolated incident, I am a sociopath. I can't keep count on how many times I have been called a bastard, which hardly seems like an insult since I carry my father's last name." is Sherlock's defense.

"Yeh... You are an annoying prick, but music is usually your outlet, you haven't played in what? Has it been three weeks since last you saw her?"

"HA!" Sherlock barks disbelieving. "You're implying I haven't played since I last saw Miss Granger, John, one has nothing to do with the other."

"When are you going to see her again? You do what to see her again, don't you?" John asks.

"No." Sherlock claims too quickly.

"You're lying." John states walking over and picking up his coat. "There is no shame in admitting you respect another human being, though with how odd Hermione Granger is perhaps calling her human is about as accurate as calling you human." John shakes his head like clearing thoughts. "I have to go, wife and baby." John reminds his friend.

Sherlock looks disappointed, "Of course."

"Ill ring you when I'm next available." John states, Sherlock smiles with a nod as the doctor leaves.

Doctor Watson was becoming too observant.


	9. Chapter 9

**Temptation**

There was a level of trust that Sherlock did not accept from people, especially one that required an obligation of responsibility. Still there she stood barefoot in her sheer pink dress looking up at him with those big eyes filled with unimaginable knowledge tempting him in ways that out shadowed the Woman. Sherlock was sure he was stronger than the temptation that Hermione Granger presented. "Sorry I'm busy." Sherlock announced dismissing Harry's plea for help, unwilling to be lured into the role of baby sitter.

Sherlock keeps his eyes locked to the computer screen, pretending to not watch as Hermione drifts over to his bookshelf her eyes widening in excitement.

"Harry look at all the books!" Hermione exclaimed, examining the detectives' bookshelf with interest.

Sherlock follow her every move as she reaches up her skirt raising to show a new expansion of pale skin, and Sherlock can hear Mycroft's comments about the temptation of flesh. Hermione pulls a book down thumbing through it before placing it back on a lower shelf completely out of order.

Sherlock shakes his head forcing himself to place his full attention on Harry whom is sporting a haughty smirk.

"No." Sherlock states again when the corner of Harry's lip twitches. "She can't stay here, where is Luna?" Sherlock demands irritable.

"Out of town, and I am needed on business with the Minster, It would not be a good idea to take her because I couldn't keep a proper eye on her. She trusts you, and as far as keeping her safe I trust you." Harry states.

"Yes, well I am currently much too busy, working on a very dangerous case so you will just have to find someone else."

"Drops, not drips." Hermione sings over her shoulder to the men, taking another book from the shelf.

"What?" Sherlock asks, whipping around to fully face her. Hermione is points to his laptop, "The water." Hermione tells the detective patiently. Sherlock turns reexamining the images from the crime scene Lestrade sent him that are visible on the desktop.

"Of Course!" Sherlock declared with excitement. "Brilliant!" the detective declares, causing Hermione to smile pleased by his praise.

"So I'll leave you to it?" Harry asks moving towards the door.

"Yes. Yes... We will fine..." Sherlock waves Harry off- just like that changing his tune.

Harry hesitates at the door, looking to Hermione who smiles reassuring at her friend.

"Stay safe." Harry commands leaving her with one more lingering look.

"Helicopter Harry." Sherlock comments standing to look at Hermione who has her nose in a book.

"Are you hungry?" Sherlock asks getting ready to call to Mrs. Hudson.

"Do you cook?" Hermione inquires, walking over and settling herself in Sherlock's chair. The detective looks affronted.

"That is my chair." He tells her expecting her to move immediately.

"Still is." she informs him, setting herself more comfortably- her attention still on the book.

"Well since you solved my case, it seems my day has opened up. Is there anything you would like to do? We could visit the library!" Sherlock suggests slyly.

"I have a book why would I need a library?" She asks not bothering to look at him.

"That is a boring book." Sherlock tells her.

"How would I know since you won't let me read it?" She asks.

"Because I have read it. You should show me something more fascinating he suggests." Sherlock moves to setting on the arm rest of his chair.

"I'm not letting you in my head again, Sherlock, so stop asking." She informs too calmly.

"Then how about you pick out a new case for us?" Sherlock decides grouchy moving back over to his laptop.

"Or we could go exploring." Hermione suggests looking up from the book a wicked glen in her eyes.

"Exploring?" Sherlock asks suspiciously.

"Helicopter Harry_: not allowed out without a companion_. You would do. That is if you are interested in exploring a magical pocket universe." Hermione appeals to the scientist part of Sherlock's psyche.

"A pocket universe?" Sherlock is clearly intrigued.

"Yes, filled with all sorts of new discoveries." Hermione whispers, standing.

"How do we get there?" Sherlock asks hoping it does not involve disapparation.

"We walk of course." Hermione tells the detective.

**Leinster Gardens**

It makes perfect sense that a pub by the name The Leaky Cauldron would be the gate way into a secret magical community hidden within London. Hermione's arm was wrapped around Sherlock as she pulled him along past the blond barmaid and to a back hallway that had a dead end. The dead end was made of staggered bricks and Sherlock contemplated the possibility of hidden passage ways when Hermione tapped a brick, causing them to shifted opening up to reveal an impressive archway into another world. Sherlock could feel the eyes of the barmaid and several residents on them, no one said a word and no one tried to stop them as Hermione lead the way into a side of London Sherlock had not realized even existed.

There are so many shops and vendors that Sherlock is not even sure where to start or where to look, but Hermione seems to know exactly where they are going leading the detective around by his arm like it is a leash as she guides them through the chaos and gawking people. People stop in the street watching Hermione pass with curious expressions. A very few bother to look at the detective himself.

They end up at an Apothecary Hermione dragging him through the door as he tried to read a few of the other shop signs.

There are dead things in jars and chopped herbs in bins with paper bags, scoops and a scale beside them. There is a man behind the counter whose' dark eyes lock on Hermione the moment she enters his store never straying from her as she floats around the shop, picking up and measuring out her purchases. She lets go of Sherlock as she shops, giving him the opportunity to do his own bit of surveillance looking out the shop widow then walking around the store examining supplies. A Jar of eye balls, next to crow feet, then beside that is a tank of live newts. The animal section also had spiders and beetles; a variety of species all alive. The other side of the store was dedicated to herbs, plants and grounded minerals. Surprisingly Sherlock did not see so much as a grain of salt in the whole store. When Hermione is done checking out at the counter, Sherlock goes to stand with her. The young man glares at him before turning his undivided attention back to Hermione with a smile. Hermione acts like she has no idea who the young man is as she stuffs her purchases in a small beaded back looping it over her shoulder.

When they leave the shop, Hermione pulls out a small purple thistle and pins it to the inside of Sherlock's coat. "For protection." Hermione tells him wrapping her arm around him and pulling him along.

The streets are too busy and Sherlock finds himself growing paranoid at how many people simply stop and stare at Hermione. She seems unnerved by it pulling the detective along shop after shop. Sherlock's hand grips hers like a life line, afraid that if she lets go he will lose her. There was still someone out there that wanted to hurt her and being in the center of her world Sherlock starts to feel less confident about his role in keeping her safe than he had in his. There are just too many variables when dealing with magic.

They turn the corner past an ice cream shop and Hermione stops abruptly. Her attention up a head when Sherlock tries to follow her gaze he sees nothing of significance. Then without a word she pulls her hand out of his and dashes off, running faster than he thought her capable of out into the crush of people vanishing in the crowd. It is his own panic that causes Sherlock to reacts just as fast sprinting after her his heart pounding in his ears as he searches for any sight of her.

The detective stops surveying the crowd when a man with a full beard points towards a darken Alley way. "She went down there." He tells the detective.

"Who?" Sherlock ask irritable, while wondering if he can trust anyone here.

"Hermione Granger of course. If you don't want Harry Potter's wrath you better catch up with her before the boy-that-lives hears you lost her. He has spies everywhere." The man says again pointing towards an Alley way that reads Knockturn alley. Sherlock knows there is no option running in the direction the man pointed desperate to find Hermione safe.

There she is standing alone in the middle of the walk way her back to the detective as he approaches her. Other passerby scurrying around her avoiding her all together, strangely acting as if the beautiful girl was more frightening then the wart covered and disfigured bulk of them. Sherlock goes to stand in front of her, his large hands on her face tilting it up to look at him.

"What were you thinking?" Sherlock demands noticing her dull eyes and deflated expression. "What did you see?"

"Thought it was a ghost." Hermione whispers avoiding eye contact and Sherlock can hear the disappointment in her tone.

"Ghost do not exist." Sherlock states firmly.

"I don't exist?" She asks looking up at him, brown eyes glistening.

"You are not a ghost." Sherlock reminds her letting go of her face taking her hands.

"No I'm the echo of a dead girl." She says this like remembering a fact.

Sherlock is shaking his head. "You are not dead." He tells her wishing she would let him back inside her head so he can help her.

"Then why does everyone look at me like I died." She asks and Sherlock is shocked by how perceptive she really is.

"Not everyone." He reminds her, thinking of Harry.

"Not you." She tells him implying that perhaps Harry is guilty of shooting her that look of pity, when he thinks she can't see it. Hermione's eyes are searching his face, and she leans in closer to him- like telling secrets.

"None of them see." She whispers her breath flitter across his lips and for a moment he thinks she is going to kiss him but instead she turns her back to Sherlock and walking back towards the light of Diagon alley.

Sherlock catches up with her taking her hand in his, her beaded purse dangling from her shoulder, and she leads them down further into Diagon Ally to a Joke show with an over the top display of a redheaded animatronic man with a rabbit under his hat.

This store is more crowded than any of the others they have visited and Sherlock cannot come up with a reason why Hermione would need in a joke shop. As they approach the counter there is a lanky man with red hair and freckles whose face pales and a full smile breaks across his face before he leaps over the counter sweeping Hermione up in his arms then kissing her firmly on the lips. Sherlock doesn't fully understand how his own hands are clenched into fist when Hermione laughs pulling the man into another tight hug.

"George!" She says letting the man go. "I come bearing gifts."

"I hope it is you. I'm told you've gone mental, that levels the playing field for me." The man winks at her and she again laughs.

"George, this is Sherlock. Sherlock this is George." Hermione introduces them setting her purse up on the counter and digging through the bag. "He has red hair, but its fine…his broken." Hermione tells Sherlock over her shoulder. George tilts his head staring at Hermione for a second there is comprehending in his expression before he turns towards the detective.

"Pleasure, Sherlock." George offers his hand and Sherlock takes it to shake, looking this silly man in the eye.

"Whoo! His intense, Hermione." George mocks a sloppy grin on his face, and Sherlock realizes George was in the picture at Luna's house his arm around a twin the two of them standing behind Hermione placing bunny ears on her. Sherlock realizes what Hermione means when she claims this man is broken.

"Guard dog." Hermione comments pulling out a rack of glass bottles.

George's eyes widen at the merchandise, as he lets out a low whistle.

"Where'd you get all that? Is that Healing potion? That's high quality stuff." George comments clearly impressed.

Hermione gave George an 'are you kidding' me look.

"She made it." Sherlock almost sounds like he is bragging on her behalf.

"I made too much. If was for a man that fell out a window, but no one bothered to offer him some." Hermione sounded surprised by this and Sherlock couldn't help but smirk, this answering a lingering question of that afternoon.

George looked confused. "How did the man fall out the window?"

"I threw him out." Sherlock supplied.

George scratch his head looking at Sherlock clearly wanting a better explanation. "Why did you do that?"

"He assaulted Hermione." Sherlock practically growled.

"This muggle is a keeper!" George nodded with a smile motioning to Sherlock, his attention back to Hermione.

"How much so you want for it?" George ask, in business man mode.

Hermione shakes her head, "Not for sale." She reminds George who looks like he doesn't understand.

"It is a gift." Sherlock reminds the man.

Hermione nods, her brown eyes swirling with unseen things. "We will need it before the end." He tells the men with confidence.


	10. Chapter 10

**Red Herring**

It is midnight and Hermione has fallen asleep in Sherlock's chair. Harry had yet to show, and the detective was concerned that something may have happened to the boy. It seemed unlikely Mr. Potter would leave Hermione in anyone's charge for longer than truly necessary giving how protective he was of the girl.

Sherlock had considered offering Hermione his bed, but there was a level of privacy that he was not willing to afford her as the night blossomed into dawn, and his concerns turned into worry. He preferred her to remain where he could keep a watchful eye on her, never mind her own comfort.

She was a restless sleeper and since Sherlock was never one to know exactly how to be comforting he seats in John's chair, as watchful guarding, so if she awoke she would immediately see him.

By five in the morning Sherlock had sent out a collective of fifteen texts to various parties illustrating his concern over the absence of Mr. Potter.

John was the only one to show up, walking in to the detective's flat by six am- coffee and breakfast in hand. Neither of which Hermione touched; her eyes wide as she watches the men whisper in the kitchen, an expression of concern on her own lovely face.

After Sherlock offered her his own clothes for her to change into and she diligently declined the offer transforming what she was wearing into an unruffled blue dress with layers of sheer material that flowed around her like water; It is John that stands in front of her, with patient eyes and an empathetic smile who shares their concern with her. "Do you know anyone that might want to hurt Mr. Potter? Any danger he could be in?"

"The red hair." Hermione whispers smoothing her skirt so it covers her legs that are pulled up under her as she is once more sat comfortably in Sherlock's chair.

"The Weasleys?" Sherlock asks thinking of the red haired family that Harry expressed full trust in.

Hermione is shaking her head like the detective's conclusion is completely unfounded. "Always third, never first."

"Then what red head?" Sherlock ask impatiently, pacing.

"The one that stole the girl." Hermione states like Sherlock should know this.

Sherlock looks intrigued- his piercing blue eyes narrowing in on her and he shoves John out of the way so he is the one standing in front of her with her full attention on him. "Animal? Vegetable? Or mineral?"

"Mimesis." Hermione explains, looking the detective in the eye.

"What of the Professor?" Sherlock inquires now that they are getting somewhere, he needed more- all those answers that she keeps all to herself unwilling to share.

"The ghost." She tells them with clarity.

"They are working together?" Sherlock asks thinking through everything she has revealed to him, over that past month.

"Changing tides. No loyalties." Hermione warns standing. "I am hungry." She tells Sherlock who can only nod, knowing that for the moment she is done sharing.

Sherlock introduces Hermione to Mrs. Hudson who obligingly makes Hermione breakfast, gushing over the girl as she cooks. Hermione eats her breakfast slowly her eyes surveying her surroundings. Sherlock is busy watching her every move. There is something coming, she is preparing them for something unseen to everyone but her.

When Hermione is done she stands placing her plate in the sink before ransacking Mrs. Hudson's cabinet clearly looking for something. Mrs. Hudson looks unstartled kindly asking, "What are you looking for, dear?"

"Sodium Chloride." Hermione says, opening another cabinet impatiently.

Mrs. Hudson looks to Sherlock who reaches over Hermione's head pulling down a bottle of table salt.

"Such a good hound." Hermione praises taking the container from Sherlock and handing it to John

"Over the thresholds quickly." She commands, while John stares at her like she is mad.

But Sherlock knows better, "Now, John." Sherlock urges. The Doctor does as he is told, starting with the kitchen door out to the garden.

Hermione moves over taking a piece of chalk from the black board Mrs. Hudson has hanging on her door to help remind her of things. Hermione offers the piece of chalk to Sherlock. "Do not lose this." She demands and the detective nods placing the chalk in his pocket just as the door rings.

"Let him in." Hermione turns looking too composed at Mrs. Hudson who nods hurrying past to do as commanded. "We must wait up stairs." Hermione tells Sherlock taking his hand and pulling him back up to his flat. They keep the door open- the formalities of things not necessary as they listen to two sets of footsteps ascend the stairs.

"You will need your coat." Hermione tells the detective, he reaches over taking it from its peg slipping it on as two red headed men step through the door. The similarities in their appearance suggesting they are related the shorter one has a pitched expression his curly hair in immaculate order as he sneers around the flat, the other is the familiar lanky presence of Ron Weasley.

"Hello Hermione." The unfamiliar man greets formally. "Mr. Holmes, I am Percy Weasley. I don't think you have met my brother Ron." The man makes the greetings and Sherlock makes sure he is close enough to Hermione this time, taking her hand in his. Ron's eyes narrow in on the action, clearly not pleased.

"It seems that Harry is missing. When would be the last time you saw him?" Percy asks with fake sincerity.

"There is a sly hiss in your tone." Hermione comments and Percy raises an eye-brow and there is comprehension that Sherlock reads.

"You're right, Ron, the girl is clearly confused." Percy states, then with a makeshift form of concern the older brother offers his hand to Hermione. "We can help you. St. Mungo has well trained healers that know how to deal with what ails you. Perhaps sometime there with do you good. Come now, let us help you." Percy offers and Sherlock can hear the worry, the concern of what Hermione might just remember in time, this man did not at all care about Hermione's well-being, he only wanted her silenced.

Hermione curls closer to Sherlock, her body trembling under scrutiny of those shifty eyes. "She is not going anywhere. Harry Potter trusted me with her care." Sherlock informs the men, Harry's name held weight with these people and Sherlock was not above exploiting it.

Percy seemed to back track, Ron staring at Hermione his personal pain being used as a weapon, loyalties easily warped to serve a shrewder man's purpose.

"Did you hurt him? Did you hurt Harry? And use your mind magic to confuse this poor muggle man to be an accessory to your crime? I know you have been hurt, but that is no reason to hurt others." Percy starts to weave a different lie, one that Sherlock is not about to stand there and listen to.

"Hermione please...come with us to St. Mungo were we can get all this sorted, Harry is in trouble don't you want to help him? I know if you did something it is not your fault." Ron says beseeching, showing what a complete moron he truly is.

"Bait in lure of a particular prey. Wisely chosen." Hermione says shaking her head clearly distressed over their lies. Lies wrapped in truth were always easier to digest. Particularly to an audience that was hungry for doubt.

Hermione Granger: smart, brilliant girl, that out shined her own gifted peers. A know-it-all with magic that not even the oldest blood lines could touch. They reeked with jealousy, with doubt...with envy. How easy it is to turn your back to someone you openly admire and secretly despise. To make an angel fall from grace, no better way to complete the story than paint her hands with the blood of a hero.

"The mud on your shoes is as red as your hair, as your hands." Hermione sings and Ron looks down at his brother's shoes.

"The mud at the ministry is red, you said you haven't been to work in days." Ron states looking hurt by his brother's possible lie. The seed of doubt planted to grow now all it needed was a bit of light and water.

"It's still wet, been there recently. Last I spoke with Mr. Potter he was on his way to see the Minister." Sherlock supplies, and Percy is not as good of a liar as he pretends. His face pales and he looks at his brother with a sneer.

"I had to stop by briefly this morning to sign something." It was a flimsy story causing Ron to look more confused.

"Master will not be pleased by the puppet." Hermione comments standing straighter, looking condemnably at Percy Weasley.

Percy's face morphs from calm civil servant to cold and sly deceiver.

"My Master awaits you, Miss Granger." He sneers quickly pulling out his wand, his spell going through Sherlock simultaneous as a bullet lodges in the man's brain. Hermione screams at the sound of gunshot ducking down putting her hands over her ears screaming as the dead man lands on his front, John standing in the doorway gun still drawn.

Ron turns emptying his stomach, and John moves standing over the remaining brother his gun pointed at the back of Ron's head.

Sherlock hits his knees reaching out to hold Hermione. She reacts violently arching away from the detective her screams reach a blood cuddling pitch and there is only one way the detective knows how to help. His weight becomes an anchor as he grabs her face and places his thumbs on her temple his pinkies at the base of her neck and he leans down placing his forehead to hers. "Shhh." He coaxes, thinking of his happy place, of red beard and the garden, humming their song. "Let me in." He commands closing his eyes. "You are not alone." he reassures. "Let me in. It is going to be okay."

Sherlock gasps for air, opening his eyes to find Hermione in a small room strapped down unmoving there are leeches on her limbs and when Sherlock moves to help he is unable to touch anything. The walls are concrete there are no windows. They are more likely underground, in a basement or cellar. There is a work table pushed up against the far wall with a shelf. There are tools and jars of living things displayed. All of which are things that Sherlock recognizes from the Apothecary or from Hermione's own potion set up. There is a wooden stick with pale brown wood and carvings of vines along the outside, it must be a wand. When Sherlock reaches out to pick it up his hand again ghosts through this time it is the entire shelf.

This is a memory, he knows this, but he doesn't like the feeling of being powerless to help while Hermione is strapped down to… no shackled, its iron shackles- the kind meant to restrain something very strong. Hermione is not moving her eyes open as she stared motionless at the ceiling completely silent.

This is unlike the other times, he is not seeing things from Hermione's perception, he is standing there as a third party observer and so he does what he does best and observes. Sherlock looked up, the ceiling is wooden slats with inner plumbing pipes showing- so under someone's house. The piping is copper, not many houses retained copper plumbing so it was an old house.

The air is muggy the only scent lingering is one that Sherlock learned when he happened upon Hermione making her potion, someone was brewing a healing potion. Just then the door opens and a familiar face with pointed features, high cheek bones and platinum blond hair walks in, cautiously closing the door behind him. With an expression of urgency Draco Malfoy rushes over to Hermione and one by one pulls the leeches off her.

"Come on Granger, we have to get you out of here." Draco Malfoy says moving around undoing the shackles before helping Hermione sit up. She looks at him clearly afraid but she is so weak, Sherlock had not realized how skinny she was. Her dress was a little more than rags and her bones stick out in display of starvation. Still she looked at Malfoy like she would rather stay here being tortured then go anywhere with him.

"I'll keep you safe." Draco reassure placing a hand on her cheek in a gesture of familiarity, then he quickly moves over to the work bench. He is quick picking up a small knife and a bag of herb and the wand before returning to Hermione's side helping her down and wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her.

That is when the door opens again- the professor has returned and he does not look happy, but more Draco Malfoy's face pales and he looks alarmed by the presence of the man in the door way.

"You're dead." Draco claims, causing Sherlock to look at the man. Stringy black hair, hooked nose, and the left side of his face was horribly deformed.

"Sorry to disappoint Mr. Malfoy. I had given my word to a certain woman, and she was not about to let me die until I fulfilled my promise." the professor says, his dark eyes narrowing in on the blond. "Am I to assume you are trying to take what I have already stolen? She is not ready for the world out there, not yet."

"Why are you doing this? You're sick!" Draco yells and Sherlock can read the raw emotion on the blonde's face.

"No need to play me a fool. You know exactly what has to be done and why." The man says his tone smooth filled with righteous purpose.

"You monster!" Malfoy shouts pushing Hermione behind him and Sherlock can hear her singing to herself in whispers as Draco aims the wand he just picked up at the Professor.

"Now then isn't that the pot calling the cauldron black. Where is your wand, Mr. Malfoy? I wouldn't suggest trying to use that one, it is very faithful to its owner."

"You will not hurt her anymore! Avada Kedavra!" Draco yells but nothing happens. The wand in Malfoys hand does not respond remaining nothing more than a stick.

The Professor cocks his head and smirks at the hero. "I tried to warn you."

"Useless." Draco states frustrated throwing the wand to the ground, "Guess I'll have to do it the muggle way." He says pulling a white gun from his back pocket and shooting the Professor point blank in the head.

Hermione jumps her own fear etched on her face as she looks up at Draco who is smiling, clearly having enjoyed his kill.

When Draco turns to give his full attention to Hermione, there is an expression on her face that does not belong there, she is no longer afraid; looking at Malfoy with renewed purpose before she disapparates on the spot. Malfoys expression of disappointment is the only thing registering with Sherlock before the scenery fades and Sherlock is kneeling on the floor of his apartment holding on to Hermione Granger whose face is pressed against his chest, feeling real and safe in his arms.

**How Many Secrets Can you Keep?**

Sherlock had so many questions all of which only Draco Malfoy could answer. They let Ronald go at Hermione's urging.

The boy was not important…Mr. Malfoy was.

That was why they were standing on the threshold of Malfoy enterprise trying to coax Hermione across the stop walk. But the stubborn girl wouldn't budge to even walk across the street her brown eyes staring ominously up at the impressive glass structure. "It is a weapon… Shards scattering… piercing flesh…no…no…no there are better ways to die." She sings and Sherlock is losing his patience. Again he is so close to answers and here was the same obstacle always standing in his way.

"I will keep you safe." Sherlock tries to reassure her placing his hands on her shoulders but she is shaking her head at him her wide eyes looking up at him with distrust.

"Some promises- impossible to keep. Don't make them." She commands, again pulling away shaking her head. Sherlock curses letting her go. He was not going to get her through the door and he couldn't leave her by herself and he would need John with him.

"Would Mycroft stay with her?" John asks, clearly reading Sherlock's dilemma.

"Doubtful, but I do know someone who will." Sherlock realizes the only answer to their problem, pulling out his phone and texting Cassandra.

The eyes and ears of Britain comes with a full guard- she eagerly takes her sister to the safety of a small café two doors down from where they stood.

This was a compromise that Sherlock felt comfortable with- leaving Hermione in the care of her sister and four armed government agents.

As Sherlock turns to leave Hermione she takes his hand halting him in his mission, "Curiosity is not a sin, Sherlock, but you should proceed with caution." Hermione quotes clearly and Sherlock nods. The detective looks at Hermione's beautiful face, and those eyes filled with so many secrets, secrets she is unwilling to share, then he leaves the café with John at his side.

The toad in pink welcomes them in shocking hospitality, summoning Theo to come escort the Sherlock and John to Draco Malfoy's office.

It is just as Sherlock remembered it, clean cold and completely impersonal. Draco is standing ready to welcome them. Today he is wearing black, completely from head to toe setting off his already pale skin and platinum hair.

"Welcome, I am very pleased to see you have made it. Where is Granger?" Draco asks, looking around like she was going to appear out of thin air.

"With Harry Potter." Sherlock lies.

"Well that would be impressive since Potter is missing, but then you do seem to miss place witches and wizards quit often, Mr. Holmes."

"Do you know where Harry Potter is?" Sherlock asks, walking over to examine the book self once more.

"No and I don't have him in my vault either. Are we really going to do this again?" Draco asks with a smirk.

"No…I think that Hermione Granger likes me." Sherlock starts to lead into the questions he really wants to ask.

"It doesn't take much to win her good opinion." Draco sneers.

"And what does it take to have her completely despise you?" Sherlock asks turning his piercing gazes on Malfoy.

"My informants says that Granger memory shares with you…so I think you already know the answer. Please, Sherlock, ask me what you will. I don't have anything to hide." Draco Malfoy claims making a wide gesture with open hands, palms up.

"How did you know where to rescue her? If I recall correctly last time we spoke here you claimed that you didn't even know she was missing. Still it was you that found her, curious?"

"I have been told you were cleaver. I didn't know she was missing until you and your doctor showed up at my door and told me. After that I used my wide arrange of informants and found her, I rescued her while everyone else simply sat around pinkie in the air allowing that monster to rip into her mind again and again. No one hurts Granger." Draco Malfoy finished his own fury vividly displayed on his face.

"So what? You love her or something?" John asks eyebrows furred.

Malfoy's expression immediately softens and he smirks, "Or something, yes." He says, moving to stand behind his desk. He motions to the chairs facing him, silently offering for John and Sherlock to sit.

John sits and Sherlock remains where he is, his attention back on the bookshelf. "This means something." The detective says when Draco takes a seat. "Your building is glass decor, intentionally opened and impersonal. It is the visual point of what you just said 'you have nothing to hide.' So why is this shelving located against the only room that hides secrets, your vault? This display is purposeful; the books, the skull, it is supposed to convey a message. But to who? And the flower…" Sherlock's voice trails off because the glass of the frame to the bell heather ripples in an unusual way, like a layer of illusion hiding something in plain sight. Sherlock squints looking closer and it is like he can see past the lie, past the magic that is smothering the frame. There is a hint of wood, so quickly there and gone Sherlock wonders if he imagined it.

"Did you see a ghost, Mr. Holmes?" Draco asks, from right behind him and Sherlock twirls around caught off guard, how it was the business man was able to sneak up behind him without a sound. Even disapperation has a telling pop.

"Where is Hermione Granger?" Draco asks again and there is something in the man's eyes that is a warning for the detective. A threat to not lie again. But when has Sherlock ever proceeded with caution? The detective knows that despite the evidence that Draco Malfoy wanted to only protect Hermione Granger- The job of protector already belonged to another far more worthy man.

* * *

Hermione sat in the café, stirring her coffee with magic- it's a nervous habit that both sisters possess, Cassandra on the other side of the booth stirring her tea with a spoon. Neither had words for the other and the silence stretched on in comfortable compatibility. The secret service men were assigned in covert locations in the café and across the street in a pointless attempt to protect a single witch. Nothing could be done as one by one, the secret service men were taken out slyly by magic.

Men dressed in black suits with Kelly green ties walked into the café and with accurate spells murdered too many people. Their sneers exposing their glee as men and women were murdered in cold efficiently.

Hermione's sleeping spell hit Cassandra as the older sister pulled out a gun, the woman slumping motionless in her seat.

It is Theo that approaches Hermione with cautious steps like he expects her to retaliate, only she remains seated stirring her coffee looking at him with a detached calmness that puts him on edge.

"Your presences has been requested." Theo states, moving to check Cassandra's pulse.

"To think a snake can summon a lion is an arrogant account of one's own mortality." Hermione sings, letting her own threat show in her eyes.

Theo frowns pulling away for Cassandra. "Dead." Theo lies to his men, looking pointy to Hermione.

"I am in a position to offer only one clemency- An exchange." Theo tells her, but his actions indicate he willfully gave her two.

Her sister is an act of defiance against his employer.

"The doctor." Hermione immediately responds, standing gracefully her attention divided among the lackeys in the room. Theo nods offering his arm, and Hermione takes it knowing there is no other choice but to enter that imposing building and see what it is that Draco Malfoy wants with her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Lioness**

She tries to remember what is like to be courageous, searching for the girl they killed, trying to find her where she was buried deep within memories, it was time to exhume Hermione Granger.

Nott lead her through the rotating doors and standing in foyer was her welcoming party. The blond business man with outstretch arms and a greeting smile. His goons having congregated and there her hound stood straight back with his poker face on, his vet at his side.

"You got my invitation, then?" Malfoy greeted moving to stand front and center.

Hermione jutted out her chin squaring her shoulders stopping several feet in front of the blond not letting herself look at her friends." The color of font you chose was hard to ignore," She says.

Malfoy smiles clearly enjoying himself. "Red always has reminded me of you. I thought it appropriate given our circumstances."

Hermione tilts her head, "Appropriate? Like rude jokes?" She asks her voice tremors with emotion.

"Witty punch lines. Kind of like your filthy muggle lover… Now he is hilarious...I'm told he's cleaver but he hasn't pieced it together...have you, Granger?" Malfoy asks eagerly taking a step forward his eyes transfix on her as he waits for her answer.

"I was told we would talk business, not pleasure." Hermione changes the subject, "Starting with amnesty."

"For your dog? I don't think so...I need a new subject for my experiments." Malfoy declares wickedly. "I promise it will be considered animal cruelty."

Hermione shrugs, not allowing his words to hurt like he means them to, sticks and stones. "Not the hound, the doctor." She corrects.

Malfoy looks shocked by this turn of events.

"Oh…Another guard dog put out to pasture. Not supposed to play out this way...I offer you a choice and you choose the d..."

"Doctor...my choice." She finishes and Malfoy looks furious.

"Wrong choice." He tells her darkly.

"Still mine to make." She points out.

Malfoy looks at the two men that are currently playing hostage then back at Hermione. "No." He decides changing the rules.

"The doctor walks free." Hermione commands again, still calm. She takes a step forward standing just in front of Draco Malfoy looking up at him with her own air of superiority no matter her small stature like he is just another fool for her to order around.

"Well, he would have, but you picked the wrong man…I expected you to pick Mr. Holmes, but then maybe you are not as fond of him as he claims." Malfoy smirks his breath on her face. Hermione refuses to let her anger show, looking over to Sherlock and John then back to Malfoy.

Of course Malfoy lied- Hermione fumed as the ferret started down at her haughtily. His bait dangling over her head, basking in the power he had over her.

Hermione had planned for this, so she lets the tears shine in her eyes looking up at Malfoy like he has won, then she turns and runs to Sherlock throwing her arms around the man uncaring how it looks to their audience. The detective surprisingly hugs her back and when they pull apart she reaches up on tippy toes and presses her lips to his kissing him like Malfoy's claims were true, like Sherlock Holmes was in fact her lover. Their lips dance and Sherlock pulls her closer- than with covert skills she frisks him in a rues of their passion. She takes the piece of chalk from his pocket weaving a silent spell through it before placing it in his palm waiting for Sherlock's fingers to curves around it before moving away ignoring John's frantic worry and obvious shock of their display.

"C=2Pi5.5cm." Hermione sings pulling Sherlock's attention from Malfoy whom he is staring at over the top of her head, the detective frowns at her right before she smacks him hard across the face. "Prayers will not help anyone now...I warned you to be cautions!" Hermione shrieks casting her eyes pointy to the floor, Sherlock goes down on both knees his eyes screaming at her to give him a second as he attempts to figure out what it is she is truly asking of him.

So to give Sherlock the time he needs Hermione turns to Dr. Watson, "And you, John Watson," Hermione accuses shaking a finder in the man's face." don't you understand a girl needs her father far more than a man needs a doctor." She yells and Sherlock looks up from the circle he just drew with the chalk surprised by her words, she motions with her head for Sherlock to back up directly behind John and then with a deliberate shove she pushes John back, the doctor falling head first over Sherlock and back into the open space of the circle disappearing through the floor undisturbing the circle's boundaries.

"Broken things are harder to mend." Hermione cries as boney fingers lace through her hair and yank her head back cold steel pressed firmly against delicate flesh. But Sherlock understands using the arm of his coat to erase the chalk, braking the circle before he too is pulled back up to his knees by Malfoy's employees.

"That was foolish, my pet." Malfoy hisses in her ear pressing the blade to her throat and anchoring his hand in her hair, twisting the curls painfully.

"Take your coat off, Mr. Holmes, you will be staying with us." Malfoy commands and Sherlock is allowed to stand.

The detective does so staring Malfoy down with his piercing blue eyes.

"It's not allowed...don't ask the knight to remove his armor!" Hermione screams, pulling against Malfoy's hold, Malfoy lets go of her hair long enough to wrap his hand around her throat, squeezing until there are dark spots in her vision.

"Now, Mr. Holmes, or we will get to see just how dirty her blood is." Malfoy declares his eyes swirling with raw emotions of a mad man as he places his blade back on the little lamb's neck.

"Stop!" Sherlock barks, his blue eyes look frantic and he shrugs out of his coat handing it to Theo. "You said no one hurts her!" Sherlock reminds the business man, bewildered that he had read all the clues wrong.

Hermione can feel Malfoy smirk against her cheek, the blade firm as he pulls her against him tighter, squeezing the air from her lungs. "Yes...but then what I meant was that no one hurts, Granger, but me." The blond declares with dramatic flair before black spots return in Hermione's vision, then she is waking up all alone in a room with green, iron walls.

**Thirty two hours ago...**

Inter office mail was really not the ideal means of communication when plotting world domination.

The muggle office was a secret meeting for the two leaders of England and their mediators.

The British Prime minister with his man, Mycroft Holmes, and the Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt with the only person he currently trusted, Harry Potter.

"How could this be allowed to happen?" Mycroft fumed staring intimidating at the Minister of Magic, who was not a man that easily threatened.

"An unspeakable went missing and finding her became a nation's single priority. An opportunity presented itself and very bad men and women took advantage." Kingsley stated, causing Harry's anger to simmer in outrage.

"This is not Hermione's fault!" Harry yells causing everyone to look at Harry shocked by his outburst.

"No it is partly yours and partly mine." Kingsley stated, believing his own words.

"Mine? Mine? How is it my fault that you trusted the wrong people in weeding out the corruption in the ministry?" Harry asked

"Because you were not there when we needed you, Mr. Potter! I was blinded by Miss Ganger's abduction as much as you. I am very fond of her, but my admiration may very well just destroyed our world."

"What is an unspeakable?" Mycroft intercedes.

"A keeper of secrets." The Minister of Magic explains. "I was concerned whoever took her may have been after ministry secrets."

"And do you think they succeeded in gaining the secrets that Miss Granger had in her head?" The Muggle Prime Minister asked his own respect for the man that played body guard to him evident in his tone.

"No, Hermione is strong, if they were after secrets she would have died before she talked. But Kingsley is wrong, she was not kidnapped because she was an Unspeakable. She was taken and tortured because she is Hermione Granger."

"What are you implying, Mr. Potter?" Mycroft asked looking intrigued by the statement.

"You may not have very many people you trust, Minister." Harry practically spit at Kingsley Shacklebolt, "but I do have people that I can depend on. It has been brought to my attention that one of my informants has intercepted an inter-office message that at least gives me a lead on where I can start looking for the puppet master that has taken over Voldemort's regime."

"You think that there is a dark heir, someone that is continuing the maniac's work?" Kingsley asks clearly disturbed by the idea.

"No, I think it is far worse than what we know, and that somehow the Weasley's are involved." Harry admits, his heart ripping in two with the accusation.

"Where is Miss Granger now?" Mycroft asks pulling out his phone to call Cassandra.

"With the only man I trust with her safety." Harry declares and Mycroft realizes who he means.

"So what now? What is your next move, Harry Potter?" Mycroft asks.

"I have to disappear and creating the opportunity that the puppets are waiting for, forcing them to show who exactly is friend and foe." Harry says looking ill by what he has decided.

"So what now?" The Muggle Prime Minister asks clearly not following the conversation.

"I believe Mr. Potter is suggesting three assassinations, an undercover operative, and a prison break." Mycroft says texting his plans to his assistant on his secure line.

**Spinner's End**

The run down black house with tattered furniture and walls of books seemed more ominous in the dark then it had in the daylight. Luna was still unable to find any sign that this is where Hermione had been kept, or that Severus Snape was still alive. He had perished at Hogwarts, it was a well-known fact, but then he was a potion's master very knowledgeable of anti-venoms, and antidotes it would not be completely absurd that somehow with help, he might have survived.

This was Harry's lead something a house elf brought to him, from the connections he had Kreature make with other house elves. A letter from Severus Snape addressed to a woman, as he called her Madame. The letter was dated two months after Snape's death. It was discouraging looking back that they had not tried to listen more when Hermione had spoken of a ghost, a ghost called professor. All the letter said was: _the girl is an ideal student, S. Snape_. It was not much to go on but Harry was adamant it was their old teacher, the man that Harry had seen as a hero after the war, now Harry was fuming with renewing condemnation for Severus Snape.

The coin in Luna's pocked warms and seconds later Harry Potter walks through the door of the old potion master's run down home, Harry's expression clearly conveying his anger.

"Percy Weasley is dead." Harry tells his current land lady as way of greeting. "Shot in the head by the muggle doctor. I seems that Percy was the one to abduct Hermione from Hog Head, he had to be working with someone else, someone that made promises to turn the man's loyalties."

"A few someones working together for a purpose we still don't understand. No one could pull this off on their own. Percy was ambition, not cruel." Luna says her wand creating light as she moves to read the books on the massive collection Snape had, muttering a reveling spell that does not work.

"I don't really care about his motives, Luna. Hermione trusted him, they got on- they talked about books, and theories, and she trusted him. He betrayed us all." Harry fumes.

"Yes, but it is not the first time we discovered a snake in a lion's hat. It's not the first time that Percy Weasley turned his back on his family for the chance of fame and power." Luna says silently trying an opening spell with a flick of her wand.

Harry moves to stand next her, looking up at the book case, "He wouldn't have used a spell. This is his muggle dad's house. The secret passage would be muggle rigged. We need to find the release, a book that we pull to open it." Harry reasons.

"Would the book reflect Snape or his father?" Luna asks reading a few more titles.

"Neither; his mum was smart, this was her hidey hole." Harry decides reaching over and pulling a green book of muggle herbal remedies. The secret passage opens and the smell of rotten flesh assaults them causing Harry and Luna to cover their nose and mouth in disgust.

**No Bravery**

It seemed odd that Sherlock's presence was requested for dinner seeing that his position had been upgrade from invited guest to high secure prisoner. He had spent the afternoon in a prison cell with iron bars and two of the ugliest guards he had ever seen. One had matted black hair and a lumpy face, the other was dark skinned with white teeth and tattoos all over any exposed flesh. They were mercenaries and wore their lives on them like a newspaper for Sherlock to read.

So naturally to pass the time Sherlock read them quite bluntly and very loud earring lumpy face to look at him like he would like nothing more than to gut the detective, the other man spoke quite candidly reveling more information that he had undoubtedly meant to.

"Leave off Gibbon, this one will just be another body for us to dispose of in a few days' time." The tattooed man said with a sly smile, no doubt looking forward to burring the detective.

"Malfoy has the girl, what is he waiting for? Potty to come rescue her?" Gibbon asks with a stupid tone.

"Let him try, there is no stopping it now, now that Granger is in her secure little cage, she was their only hope. Why do you think Snape did what he did?" the man, Sherlock still did not have a name for asks.

"What did he do?" Gibbons asks clearly not knowing. Sherlock sat back against the wall trying not to look interested. But the door creaks open and Theo Nott enters with his air of superiority and a haughty smirk.

"Let Mr. Holmes out, Draco has extended an invitation to Granger' mutt to share dinner with us. Gibbon wash up, Rowle go to Draco he has a job for you." Theo orders and the men quickly obey scurrying off in a hurry. Theo has his wand pointed at Sherlock and with a quick spell, Sherlock is clean and his cloths are unruffled. The detective looks down at himself and then walks out of his cell. Theo is holding out Sherlock's coat and Sherlock eyes it wondering what the catch is.

"A knight needs his armor." Theo mocks.

Sherlock takes his coat putting it on. "Does this mean I'm allowed to leave?"

"Would you leave, I wonder? If I told you I could get you out despite what Draco has planned for you, would you go and leave her here trapped within green walls?" Theo asks, his intelligent brown eyes peering into the detective. "No, I didn't think so. Come, Sherlock, I think you will find this meal very informative." Theo suggest turning his back to the detective, knowing Sherlock would follow, his own insatiable curiosity his own weakness.

* * *

The dead body was still moist; larger incents buzzing about, smaller ones having found a home in the decomposing corps of Severus Snape. The bullet hole was clean through his forehead, brain matter and blood coating the wall the body was still propped against. It was a small room with a workbench and hospital gurney. This was where Hermione had been kept, Luna had found the remains of an advance healing potion on a burnt out fire like it had been interrupted mid brewing. Snape would torture Hermione, heal her then torture her more. It made Harry's stomach churn and what is worse Harry wanted to murder an already dead man. Luna confirmed the identity ensuring that this time the potion master remained dead. Harry ransacked the man's home in attempt to find any notation to what Snape was trying to accomplish. This was more than blatant torture for the sake of entertainment. Snape was methodical, and precise on what he was doing, Hermione had said it was lessons. So what subject was Snape teaching?

* * *

Dinner was served in a huge dining hall of black marble decorated in early 1900 finery. The main table sat thirteen men, all much older than anyone Sherlock had yet to associate with Mr. Draco Malfoy. The man at the head of the table has long blond hair, high cheek bones, and fair skin. There is a ragged look about him that suggest illness, but this could only be Draco Malfoy's father. The other men sitting around the table ranged from late forties to early sixties. Behind them stood younger men and women with similar features to the men they stood behind- children and parents at a family dinner.

Theo gestures to the only empty chair at the foot of the table and Sherlock takes his seat surveying his surroundings and taking in the tension caused by the rues of a meal.

"Welcome!" Draco Malfoy announces from the entry way, the youth in the room stand to attention the older men simply sneer at the man some even roll their eyes. "I am so happy to see that everyone invited was able to attend our little family get together." Draco greets striding over to place a hand on his father's shoulder.

A man huffs in disbelieve at the young Malfoy's words, Draco's eyes flash towards the older man, "Please Travers share with the family." Draco offers in a charming allure that Sherlock knows all too well, this was a dare.

Dare to question a monster's authority in his own domain; dare to become the meal to be served.

"Well seeing how most of us were broken out of prison to attend your little soiree, it hardly seems like an invitation."

"You are free because of me, would you have preferred to rot in your cell or be reunited with your lovely daughter?" Draco motioned to the dark haired young woman standing behind the older man named Travers. Her plain face held a dark edge that peered down at her father with eagerness, her eyes dart up to Draco who holds up his hand to her, a silent command. Clearly Draco Malfoy wanted an answer from the man.

"My daughter, yes. So happy to see my weak little girl. She who was not strong enough to bear the gift my Dark Lord tried to bestow upon her." Travers spit out. Malfoy's eyes darken and he nods to the woman, who pulls out a blade and slits her father's throat from ear to ear, letting the sound of his death echo around the hall as the woman lets him flop down on the table top, his blood pooling on the table.

"How many of you willingly gave your children to a monster to torture and experiment on for the want of his favor. Pick me, Daddy, pick me!" Draco yells as the older men at the table try to stand in a fruitless effort to flee, their children using spells and blades to anchor their fathers to the chair- a blade at every throat when the commotion settles. "Families are supposed to protect each other, to love one another. But all you taught us was hate. Hate of muggles and hate of our own world." Draco states, his father's eyes darting back and forth.

Sherlock has a front row seat to the stage that Draco Malfoy has set.

"I have lessons that I too have shared with your children, teachings of giving hate where hate is deserved. Gifting death to those that can only be improved by it, and bestowing loyalties to those that earn it. Crabbe let's start with you, what else have you learned under my tutelage?" Draco asks looking to the man from Lion Claw that had pointed a wand at Sherlock.

"To accept my weakness as strength." The young Crabbe announces sliding his knife into his father's neck.

Draco moves on before the man dies looking to his next follower a young man with a thin mouth, "Wilkes?" Draco asks.

"Blood may be thicker than water, but it's harder to trend through." The young man declares putting his father to the knife.

And it goes around the table, "Muggles can be clever and more worthy than some wizards." A man named Rosier says sure in his action.

"The people we surround ourselves with can make us but they can also destroy us." A young man named Fletcher says, his hand shaking as he murders his elderly relation.

"We were not meant to linger on the sidelines." A young woman claims her blade secure in her hand and on it goes until all thirteen men are nothing more than slaughtered pigs, their dead bodies slumped along the dinner table as their children stand taller behind their chairs

They come back around to Draco whose eyes swirl with vindication at the table covered in blood his own father all that remains, beside Sherlock himself.

"Pureblood, so very red and vibrant spilled to show you all that blood is not power. Blood is a life force for all; wizards, muggles, and even the cleverest of animals." Draco Malfoy looks directly at Sherlock, the detective can feel his heart beating erratically, this was not how he would die. And Draco Malfoy's expression seemed to reassure the detective of this. This psychopath had a darker purpose planned for Sherlock.

"I have proof of what I claim." Draco says holding up a white handkerchief with obvious fresh blood on it. "Blaise, tell them who this belong to, and where we have secured her." Draco motions for the other young man to take the stage.

"We have Granger behind an iron wall. Snape could not hide her from our master, Potter could not keep her forever." The man's thick accent vibrating though the crowd all excited by the new. Draco's father looked furious his own fear of mortality written on his distraught features.

"Behold, Mudblood." Draco declares with flare, throwing the bloody handkerchief on the table. All stood watching in wonder as the blood of their father's soaked in with the mudbloods. "Now tell me where the difference in color is. What red belongs to your ancestors and what red belongs to muggle born Hermione Granger; the most powerful witch to ever walk Hogwart's halls?" Draco demands looking each of his followers in the eyes before turning his full attention to Sherlock Holmes. "I have learned the muggles have much to offer us, and us to them." Draco Malfoy announces before murdering his own father with true conviction.

Sherlock can only sit there in shock, slightly wondering when dinner would be served, and if he claims he needs the toilets he could shake his guard and try to find Hermione, before she became a slaughtered lamb for Draco's rebellion.


	12. Chapter 12

**Vertigo**

It was less than falling, more like stumbling, still Dr. John Watson screamed like a proper damsel as gravity shifted and he landed on his feet. His head coming in contact with something above him and he lands less gracefully- prone on his side staring at the wooden legs of a grand piano. The piano's vibrations from the impact shake down to the floor and John watches in confusion as the precise ring of salt collapse, the grains falling and shifting leaving a broken mess of sodium chloride.

John army crawls out from under the piano standing surveying his surroundings and it does not seem like a huge leap to assume he has been transported to Hermione's home, it was just as Sherlock described.

The room is like a small comfortable library, bookshelf's filled on every wall a framed picture of Hermione, Harry Potter and a red head bloke just about confirming John's assumption. There is an orange beast of a cat that looks in need of a good comb that is sitting on the piano self, eyeing John with intelligence before resting its head on its paw closing its eyes seemingly uninterested that a strange man just materialized out of nowhere.

John makes his way to the lower level, he finds the front door only to find it locked. He tries a backdoor and then the windows, without much luck, currently the doctor was trapped.

John makes his way back to the living room sitting on the sofa facing a fireplace with a sigh. He had to regroup and figure out how he was going to help Sherlock and Hermione.

The Fire place suddenly kindles on its own, a green flames growing and John's astonishment turns into panic as he dodges behind the couch, a small woman with yellow hair materializing and walking out dusting herself off.

The green fire rekindles and then out walks the familiar form of Harry Potter. John signs with relief standing to present himself only to be greeted with two sticks in his face.

"How the hell did you get in?" Harry asks, pushing the woman behind him in a protective motion.

"I don't know if you remember me, I am John Watson colleague to Sherlock Holmes, and I need your help." John states his eyes trained on the wand in Mr. Potter's hand.

"Nice to meet you I'm Luna." the woman greets stepping out from Harry, she is the first to lower her weapon.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asks looking around like she should be with the muggle doctor.

John pulls a pained smile, shaking his head, "That is why I need your help, it seems that Mr. Draco Malfoy has taken our friends prisoner."

Harry lowers his wand looking at Jon like he had gone mental, himself. "Malfoy...No he donated all that money to rebuilding Hogwarts, he had become a very prominent figure in the muggle world, and one of the biggest advocates for muggle born rights. He's not...evil" Harry argues with Hermione's words, words that she had used to defend the ferret before all this happened. "They were chatting in the pub, the night she went missing. Chatting and laughing like friends...Does everyone what to hurt Hermione?" Harry bellows.

Luna jumps startled placing a reassuring hand on Harry's arm.

"How did you get here?" Luna again asks having secured the house herself, there was no way for someone to just break in.

"I fell through the floor and appeared under Hermione's piano." John says in a laughing voice, like what he just said was complete nonsense.

But Luna looked intrigued, rushing around the men and up the stairs back to Hermione's room. John and Harry right behind her. The land lady grabs a book off one of the shelf's and hurries over to show it to the men.

"The less magic she used the more stable her mental capacity became, isn't that what you told me Harry?" Luna asks already knowing the answer.

Harry nods, "Yes and the more magic she used the more confused she became, like with the wands in Ollivander's shop."

Luna nodded in agreement. "Yes, I agree. I think that is why she held back on using her magic after those first few months, I think she understood the correlation, rather consciously or subconsciously. She has all that power but using it comes at a great cost to her. This book is filled with magic that draws from a key source in nature giving focal and outside power to magic." Luna explains placing the book on the top of the piano and flipping it open.

"Isn't this muggle make believe?" Harry asks confused, he does not remember learning any of this at Hogwarts.

"No, this is elemental magic considered archaic, but a lot of our high magic is based on the principles of elemental magic. It draws from a different source of power to preform magic like a simple protection spells." Luna states pointing at a picture of a purple thistle in the book. "Or transportation spell." Luna says turning the page and showing that a ring of salt and a ring of chalk could be linked to achieve this if the witch or wizard had enough power.

"This one still uses high magic." Harry points out and Luna nods.

"Yes the transportation spell is an example where both are needed, but it is a very powerful bit of magic, it is an out-of-date way to travel, having evolved over time to what is now called the floo network." Luna informs.

"Brilliant." Harry exclaims. "We can sneak in through this portal, having the element of surprise on our side!"

Luna shakes her head, "I doubt Hermione would leave her end open, if the circle breaks it is impossible to track. She was trying to save Dr. Watson." She points out.

"Well Sherlock is still in the hand of that psychopath, I'm not about to leave him there." John speaks up with gusto.

"No more than we are willing to leave Hermione. I don't know what game Malfoy is playing but he is not going to win." Harry vowed knowing that he was going to have to get creative because there was no way he was going to be able to walk into Malfoy enterprise without an army at his back.

**Space Between**

His footsteps were distinct, his presence was honed into a survival instinct that Hermione had perfected as a captive. She could feel his threat long before he knelt down beside her his forked tongue already hissing before he makes a sound.

"It hurts me to see you this way. Abandoned and all alone, you don't have to be alone..." Draco Malfoy speaks with a charming allure. He reaches out to touch her hair and Hermione shrugs out of his reach, able to see him for what he is, a snake.

"Your touch is poison." She informs him, watching with wide golden eyes. Draco smiles in that way that says he is delighted by her observation, a real smile without malice.

"You amaze me; so quick to comprehend, so slow to condemn." He tells her and can feel him playing with the untied sash of her dress laying on the floor. It is an innocent yet intimate gesture. It reminds her of a moment when they had laughed together almost like friends.

"Do you remember at Hog Head? After the reconstruction of Hogwarts…I sat in that bar as everyone laughed and joked, surrounded by so much happiness that I was not a part of. Still no one trusted me, but you came over and sat next to me at the bar. It has always been you…you give me strength. You told me that if 'I didn't like the world we lived in, then I should change it'" Draco reminds her. "The world is broken, Granger, and I am going to fix it." He promises her with conviction.

Still silence never last long as the mind drift from one thought to another, "Will you be honest, do you hate me?" He asks, far too many emotions on his face for Hermione to keep from frowning in response.

"All this time, not a secret...I don't think of you enough to allow you the gratification of hate. You are pathetic and pitiful, playing make believe in your father's shoes." She informs him, her tone void of emotion.

Draco sneers in response clearly wounded over her words. "It is interesting that you mention my Father, since I just got done murdering him. I know he was the one behind the little set up with Snape. They reeked of fear, ever since they took the iron shackles off, all they did was cower."

"In fear of the monster they created, in fear of the monster that destroyed them." Hermione sings, laying back her eyes on the ceiling acting as if he were not scary enough to dread. "Turning to dust while quaking in the shadow of their own mortality." She finishes, starting to hum the first bar of the composition piece that reminded her of Sherlock.

"Such pointless terrors. All men die…there is no logic in fearing the path that all must walk…" Draco speaks to her like they were close friends but then in his mind perhaps they are.

"I wanted you to be the first to know..." Malfoy lets his voice trail off, he drops the fabric that he had been playing to reach into his pocket. There is a wickedness to his tone that regains him Hermione attention. He pulls out a purple thistle crumpling it in his hand and letting it fall to the ground, the silence more telling than words would have been.

"Do you know what they did to me? Do you know what they did to you? What I will do to him, if you don't cooperate?" Draco lets his threat fill the space between them watching as she slowly sets up, she is so weak, but that was why he built this iron cage; to keep her contained.

"Yes...one half full, one overflowing, and one empty." She tells him and he smiles again his hand reaching out to touch her face, this time she lets him, because she realizes that the threat of Draco Malfoy is suddenly incredibly real, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

"We both had to choose our destinies…two sides of the same coin…your screams were music in the dark leading me back to the light. Do you understand? Do you understand what we are?" He ask in a sinking desperation, and Hermione struggles to find the light in this dark situation and then it comes to her as he looks for the curse he had placed on her all those months ago, his silent thief stealing from her and through his invoked confusion she finally understands, she sees the end and it gives her hope as he rips it all from her, casting her back down into that pit of despair and loneliness.

"We will be the stars." She sings, it is all she can remember in the moment her fingers grasp the snake's arm and her fingers tap in the mocking action of playing a piano.

"Oh, no we will burn far longer." Draco promises, pulling her up in his arm and carrying her down the hidden staircase in the floor.

**Comrades and Colleagues**

Harry ally his troops sending word to everyone he is certain he can trust. Ron and Ginny Weasley being on the top of that list; they may be shortsighted but they were still friends- a few months of hurt feelings did not wash away eight years of comradely. The Weasley's came with vengeance in their veins, ready to storm Malfoy Enterprise. George shows up too with a case of healing potion and his girlfriend, Angelina. Neville Longbottom is not long behind them, with Susan Bones holding on to his arm with a ring on her finger and a smile on both their faces.

Harry was happy for them though his mind was on more serious matters.

John was in the kitchen yelling into his phone. "What do you mean you're busy? You're his brother!" Harry leans against the door frame watching knowing that Mycroft was currently right where the powerful man was truly needed. And if the British government did not think in necessary to confined its intent with a muggle civilian than Harry Potter would not object. Mycroft and Cassandra were working to efficiently unraveling the muggle side of Malfoy's ties. This was a battle that had to be fought from both sides and currently they had the upper hand. If Draco Malfoy wanted a war, Harry Potter was all too happy to oblige.

Some first impressions are meant to last a life time.

"Does Sherlock have no one that will stand up for him?" John asks clearly irritated.

"He has you." Harry points out. "Did you call the wife? Is she okay?"

"Mary can take care of herself. I told her I was out on a case was Sherlock." John shrugs pocketing his phone.

"Isn't lying bad for a marriage, or something like that?" Harry asks with a half grin.

John frowns and shakes his head, "Na…beside I'm lying to keep her safe. If I told her that Sherlock and Hermione were in danger, she would want to tag along. Cheryl needs her mother." The doctor says watching as Luna walks over and hugs Harry with a dreamy smile.

"I have a plan, Harry. To get you and the Doctor in the guarded castle."

**Selling Lies**

Draco Malfoy announces his presence by having one of his men throw a cold bucket of water in Sherlock's face. Sherlock is hanging suspended in the air, upside down, most the water goes up the detective's nose as he splutters to catch his breath.

"I have become fairly familiar with muggle culture over the past year, I have discover a taste for your weaponry, particularly the gun." Malfoy greets pointing the barrel of his white gun at Sherlock's head. "Having your magic hidden from you can awaken a want to learn about a civilization that thrives despite their ordinary lives. Are you familiar with the works of Nietzsche?" Malfoy asks tilting his head to make eye contact with Sherlock.

"And those that were seen dancing, were thought insane by those that could not hear the music." Sherlock quotes thinking of Hermione.

Draco smirks, "Good, even now you think of her. Both of you make wonderful puppets, but I do not think her so committed in her regard of you as you are of her. She did not seem to care that I stripped you of that little protection charm she placed on your coat, and then to think of how easily she surrendered to ensure the escape of that man, that muggle doctor... I believe she thinks more highly of him than she does of you."

"Most people preferred him to me, I'm a prick." Sherlock stated appearing uncaring due to his calm tone, despite his situation. Sherlock understands that Hermione's choice had more to do with logical assessment than feelings, she had made the choice that the detective would have wanted her to make, and Sherlock respects that. Harry Potter and John Watson on the same side fighting to save them… Draco doesn't stand a chance.

"You are a repulsive man so I don't understand what she sees in you." Draco wonders aloud, it is something that clearly bothers the man as he points his gun to the floor.

"I'm told my eyes are dreamy." Sherlock suggest, causing Draco to sneer at the detective.

"What my eyes aren't dreamy?" Draco asks in a mocking way.

Sherlock manages to shrug in response. "There is always some madness in love, but there's also always reason in madness." Sherlock quotes in attempt to figure out what exactly Draco Malfoy means to accomplish.

"Love?" Draco says the word like a curse. "You still don't understand…We all had to make a choice." Malfoy is pacing clearly frustrated that Sherlock was still clueless. "We were ripped down to the bare essentials and a choice laid there before us. Through the pain and heart ache and betrayal all that is left is most basic components." Draco pauses looking again at Sherlock. "I chose hate, Sherlock Holmes the sound of her tortuous screams brought me comfort. Have you ever been undone? Hermione Granger has, many times I watched my aunt tortured her in my home and I sat there memorizing every octave her voice took as she cried out in pain over, and over again. Wanting it to be me with the wand in my hand. They threatened to kill her, to allow the beast to rip her apart if she didn't tell them what they wanted to hear, and still she lied through the torment: she chose love…and then again with Snape and the deprive things he did to her. Still Granger chose love, I read the journals she wouldn't give Potter up, Granger will always choose love. It is her weakness and my advantage."

"The professor?" Sherlock asks not having heard the name Snape before but easily enough connectiong the dots. Malfoy nods confirming the name. Sherlock can read it. On Draco's suit and in his actions. Hermione is currently alive, this man's desperation of her approval was too potent for him to just murder her before the opportune moment. "You are going to kill me anyways so enlighten the ignore muggle man, what is this all for?" Sherlock asks if there is one thing he learned from John it was keep the villain talking: there is always truth in lies.

"To live is to suffer, to survive is to find meaning in the suffering." Draco quotes with a wicked smile. "The monster was cruel, he wanted to expand his magic so he came up with this concept of stealing other's magic, making it his own. His experiments started with the children of those followers that displeased him, or witches and wizards that refused to join his cause. He murdered more purebloods by his own hand than he did muggle born. The closest he got was capping someone's magic sealing the well off with iron so not even they want to touch their own magic. This was how he was going to cure the world of muggle born plague. I was the only one to survive; my mother's protection seeing me through the war. My followers lost brothers and sisters to those experiments. Over time, however, I realized that my magic wasn't completely out of my reach. Those arts that I excelled at still were there for me to use if I pulled hard enough, if I could withstand the fire that seared when I tried to touch it. You grow to be wearily of your own power, least it consume you. However, I still have a flare for dark curses, occlumency, and legilimency no matter my lack of wand. Potter stole mine, and it seems I do not have enough magic left for a new one to pick me. I had hoped to find the location of the Elder's wand in Granger's mind, but she would rather let her memories fall through the veil then allow me access to her inner most secrets."

"Harry claims Hermione's magic is extraordinary, the professor failed, Hermione is more power than you." Sherlock reasoned, watching as Draco Malfoy again sneered at the detective's words.

"No. Idiot…He did not fail. He needed a champion, so he chose her…my angel. Bait in lure of a particular prey. She was the weapon sharpen into a means to become my own destruction. But feelings are not an advantage they only expose one's weakness. Snape was part of the Dark Lord's experiments, and if magic can be restrained it can also be unleashed to its full potential. But Snape did not get to complete his weapon a bullet in the head put an end to him." Draco explained gripping Sherlock's hair, pulling his gun back out and shoving it in the face. "Not every villain gets to create their own hero. Voldemort had Potter, and I have Granger. I have to admit my archenemies is so much prettier. No worries, I left her with a parting gift when I rescued her from Snape's underground classroom. I prefer Granger a raving lunatic she so much more compliant. I doubt she even remembers you, now. She has found her destiny the two of us; our fates eternally intertwined. I know my father was behind her capture, him and his pureblood friends, thinking if she fell off the face of the world I would no longer have a reason to try and unite our two worlds. They were small minded traitors that had to die."

"You wear your heart on your sleeve, Draco Malfoy, like a fool." Sherlock says understanding all the bravos of what this idiot wouldn't admit aloud. It was quite ridiculous, world domination for a woman…Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes how predictable, and boring.

"You're wrong….I'd have to have a heart for that to work. And currently I keep it on a shelf in a glass jar." The metaphor was followed with a pistol whip leaving Sherlock unconscious. Draco looked over to the Healer and the muggle doctor he had on staff. "Prepare him." Malfoy commands walking from the room, in a far fouler mood than he had entered.

* * *

A.N. Ok lost of information. I hope it all makes sense on what is going on and this chapter shines a bit of light on the tangled web I have woven. The quotes are all Friedrich Nietzsche. The first one Sherlock says was the inspiration for this whole story and Nietzsche seems like someone Draco and Sherlock would both have read. It is really hard for me to catch all my errors. I do not have a spell check program on my tablet so I do read through chapters several times before posting, I know I don't catch everything, sorry. Reveiws are fuel to my fire in how fast I get around to working on a chapter. They also are a great tool to give feed back to let me know everything I have been building up for makes sense and that as an author I'm not falling in plot holes. Thank you for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

**One Room**

Obtaining access to Malfoy Enterprise was a lot easier than what John anticipated. The Weasleys sure knew how to create a diversion, keeping everyone's attention at the reception desk as Harry threw a cloak over both of them leading the way to the elevators. No one moved to intervene, all of Malfoy employees stood in their assigned spots as John and Harry walked past undetected. When the elevator doors closed Harry pulled the cloak off them. John could only stare at the cameras mounted within the elevator with concern.

"No need to worry, its window dressing. Electronic devices don't work around magic, too much static interference." Harry tells John trying to ease his worries.

"Where's the magic?" John wonders aloud and Harry shrugs slipping a bag out of his own pack then handing it to John. "Everywhere. I checked the security measures of this building before we entered. There are some very powerful spells laced through the foundation and structure."

"Spells? Like to keep people out? Well they don't seem to work now do they?" John says feeling relived.

But Harry looks up his eyes darken and there is a warning there. "Malfoy isn't worried about people coming in as much as he is them getting out."

John swallows and nods, somehow this actually reassures him all the more. "Alright then, chances are Sherlock is already three steps ahead of us, let's find them." John declares taking the bag Harry was handing him. They had gone over the items back at the Lion Claw: there was healing potion, a couple of wind-up toys that could be used as a diversion, a weird looking ear thing to be used to eavesdrop, and most importantly the cloak that would hide him. They were splitting up to cover more ground, John would go down in the elevator and Harry would go up. They had to find their friends. Harry had given John a golden decoder to communicate with, in case he found something. As Harry pointed out with the cameras; electronic devices would not work, therefore, they need an alternative to cell phones.

Harry throws the cloak over John as the elevator reopens and John walks out into the unguarded hallway not bothering to look back as he hears the elevator doors close. With sure steps he makes it to the only door pausing to consider opening it or waiting for someone else to. John pulls out the wind-up toy and slowly opens the door, just a crack and lets the toy walk through. Moments later there is an audio boom and slowly John reopens the door to find a room of heavily armed men passed out cold on the ground. John realizes he must have used the stunning one instead of the black smoke one, he shrugs to himself really uncaring about his mistake before moving on.

There are two doors in this room, one has a glass window that shows a decked out operating room which is completely empty, and so John opts for door number two picking up the remains of the toy as he maneuvers through the room. It is a solid door of some kind of metal and it is locked. John steadily walks over to the two men that had been guarding that door and pulls a key card out of one's pocket, the door opens and in side is a quaint hospital room, with carpet and a small bed in the middle of the room with someone in it. The room is dark. Unable to make the figure out, John shuts the door behind him before fumbling for the light switch. The light it seems is all or nothing, the room goes from dark to bright startling the figure in the bed, she jolts up her hair fanning out as she turns to look at the door.

John still under the cloak is momentarily shocked that it is Hermione, but she looks wild there are scratches on her arms and her legs are shackled to the bed. "Harry?" She asks and John feels his heart rate slow back down. He pulls the cloak off to reveal himself and she tilts her head in a way that translates, I know you, but where from.

"Hermione, I am…"

"The Doctor." She sighs in relief. "Just the man I need. It seems that there has been some kind of mix up they miss labeled the specimens." She tells him pointing to the other side of the room and John's eyes look over seeing the shelf and his hand involuntary moves to cover his mouth in shock.

There is a whole wall of shelving all containing harvest human organs.

"Oh…my…God." John says slowly still in shock over the display.

"God didn't do this a madman did. Will you relabel the jars, doctor?" She asks and John can only shake his head moving over to examine the shackles on her legs. He need to get her out of here before she became another organ in a jar.

"No, no, the jars. You must relabel them…they did them wrong they labeled man were gift should be and call man a gift. You must fix it!" Hermione shouts kicking her legs forcing John to back up. He looks at her again and the wildness there has turned savage, her hair in disarray, her cheeks sunken in, and her eyes swell with desperation.

"Ok, if I do, will you come with me?" He asks hoping he can reason for her cooperation.

She looks at him with her golden brown eyes not blinking in an unnerving way. "I will leave the moment you fix their error." She vows and John nods moving over to the creepy wall that is oddly fascinating.

"Ok which one is miss labeled, what are these symbols?" John squints at the label trying to decipher knowing he has no clue what they mean.

"The idea of a sick joke. There is one that is man the symbol looks like an M but has an X horizontal between the two legs. The other is gift which is labeled with an X. They must be exchanged." Hermione tells John, who nods finding the two labels and switching them, that is when there is a sound at the door and Hermione looks at John with urgency, "Hide." She tells him as the door opens and two men walk in followed by Draco Malfoy. John is already securely under the cloak.

"Seems I did not use enough iron on your chains to subdue you. I am happy to inform you that whatever spell you used on my men did not kill any of them. Only gave them very bad headaches. I wonder how you were planning on ridding yourself of your chains, were you going to naw off your feet and crawl to freedom? Really, Granger, I though you smarter than that." Draco scorns moving over to unshackle her, taking a small key from his pocket and being painfully slow about things.

"Ah…look…" Malfoy fusses his fingers tracing the red abrasions on her ankles where the chains hand been. "You have such nice, soft skin, Granger, I hate to see it get marred but iron seems to be the only thing that keeps your magic contained. Would you murder me, if I gave you the chance, would you kill me?" Draco asks her pulling her up in his arms bridal style the last part whispered loudly in her ear. John clenches his teeth, over the interaction but one of the Malfoy's men has walked over and is standing a foot away from John. This man has a gun in one hand and John knows he will not be able to reach his gun before this man can put a bullet in his head so he has no choice but to stand there waiting for his opportune moment.

"I already have." Hermione sings and Draco laughs disbelieving as he carries her out of the room.

John's opportune moment never comes because the man with the gun turns pointing the weapon straight at the doctor as the other man who had been examining the specimens reaches up and pulls something off the shelf then both men following Malfoy and Hermione out the door, locking John inside.

**I Am Sherlock**

Sherlock props himself up against the wall as he searches his pocket for the item of immense importance. Someone had drugged him, or perhaps more acutely sedated him. Still over the years he had built up a tolerance to many forms of drugs both recreational and medical. He was going to kill Draco Malfoy that much he was sure of, once he found Hermione, he was going to cut the psychopath down and this time he would accept knighthood from ridding the world of that blasphemes cur.

Ah! He found it: the key card he slipped out of Draco Malfoy's pocket when the snake was hissing his plans with a gun pressed to the detective's head. Because that is what Sherlock does, pickpockets people when they irritate him. He adjusts himself against the wall moving to slip the key card into the slot opening the door to his cell when the light turns green. He rights himself forcing his body to stand erect and walks out of his cell in a fashion that suggest he is not in as much pain as he currently feels.

It is surprising that Sherlock does not cross paths with a single person and when he makes his away across the lobby, he discovers why. There is a group of people yelling and arguing. The toad looks beside herself with fear as a tall gangling red head moves to block her path, and at once Sherlock realizes the cavalry has arrived. It is George Weasley and now Sherlock realized that most of the group is made up of Weasleys he even recognizes the Longbottom chap. Good that meant John and Harry were about and already looking for Hermione.

There were clues that lingered on the fringe of Sherlock's mind and he decided at once that Draco Malfoy's office was where he would start. Theo had said she was being keep within green walls, and there was something else in Malfoy's office that needed to be liberated.

The key card proves to be just as Sherlock anticipated a free pass to all of Malfoy enterprise, allowing him access to even Draco Malfoy's office. The pristine office so purposefully decorated and there on the self is the books, the female skull and that framed flower with its tricky glass frame. Sherlock picks the frame up examining it from all angles looking for that ripple of illusion, only he can't see it so he chucks it to the ground in attempt to break it open. I doesn't as much as crack landing on the ground in a dull thud. Painfully Sherlock bends down and picks it back up, before smashing it against the book shelf denting the wood of the book shelf: the frame remains unblemished. Sherlock curses as the door clicks and for safe measures he tucks the frame into the inner breast pocket of his coat.

The door opens and two familiar men walk in. Harry Potter with his wand at the ready and Theo Notts, with a crooked smile clearly entertained to find the detective all alone.

"You're a resourceful man, aren't you Mr. Holmes?" Theo asks and Sherlock eyes the man wearily. "They sedated you with enough drugs to knock a dragon out, and still here you stand not even twenty four hours after your surgery. Impressive."

"Surgery?" Sherlock wonders aloud not thinking beyond escaping with Hermione to contemplate why he would have been so heavily sedated or in so much pain.

He had assumed it because he was a threat.

"Malfoy needed a final test subject, you were it." Theo enlighten and Harry shook his head pulling a bottle out of the bag at his side.

"Here, this will help. Surgery? What kind of experiments was Malfoy doing?" Harry asked uncorking the bottle and handing it to Sherlock.

Theo just grinned. "I don't know. Something to do with his plans for Granger." Theo tells them.

Harry looks sick and Sherlock recognizing the substance in the bottle from smell alone so he willingly throws it back chugging the whole thing almost immediately feeling better. He stands straighter and Theo looks at him clearly fascinated by Sherlock's remarkable recovery.

"What was that?" Theo motioned with his head toward the bottle.

"Healing potion that Hermione brewed." Harry answered quickly moving over as if to help Sherlock who waves Harry off, not needing the help.

Harry turns facing Theo looking determined to get to the bottom of this mystery. "You told me you were on our side, that I could trust you." Harry stated. "What are his plans for Hermione?"

"You can trust me, but I was not part of Malfoy's inner circle. I have been under cover since I was fifteen. Since Granger liberated me. But I never earned the clearance to certain levels of Malfoy's planes. He never fully trusted me. I truly don't know what he wants with her, only that he claims he cannot live without her."

"What do you mean liberated you?" Sherlock bites out clearly upset over all this information.

Nott sighs. "She was the reason my father was sent to Azkaban. He received the dementor's kiss. He was abusive…with him gone…I was free. So I chose to help in the only way I could without being murdered I joined the Death Eaters and fed information to the Order, then when Draco started his campaign I made sure I was on board. Just in case I could help. When I found out he was after Granger I tried to gain ranks but he never trusted me. Only Blaise knows everything…" Theo trails off and Harry nods, absorbing the information.

"But you still did nothing to stop him." Sherlock accused. The healing potion was doing wonders, in the short time he felt almost completely better.

"How do you stop someone when you have no idea what they are up to? I have friends in the muggle law offices that I notified and fed information to. Your brother being one of them." Theo accounted for himself.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Mentioning my brother really doesn't help your case."

"Whatever, I don't care what happens to you. All I ever wanted was to repay Granger for her kindness." Theo says through clenched teeth clearly irritated.

"HA!" Harry exclaims causing the other two men to look at him with visual inquire. "Someone that doesn't want to hurt Hermione." Harry states out loud in a small one man celebration. Sherlock rolls his eyes while Theo grins and nods walking backwards towards the door.

"We haven't much time. I was told they were prepping her, when need to go now." Theo says waving them on as he leads the way out the door.

That is when Harry feels the coin in his pocket warm and he pulls it out there is a single word on the coin: _Basement._

"We are needed in the basement." Harry tells Theo who nods, Sherlock and Harry follow knowing they have no other choice but to trust Theodore Notts.

**Restricted Section**

Theo leads them down into the basement there is a single door that has no lock on it.

"I'll go first." Theo says, "Perhaps you should hide."

Sherlock looks around there is nowhere to hide but Harry pulls out his wand and taps his head, a strange sensation running down the back of Sherlock's neck as he watches Harry do the same to himself, and the boy goes invisible, like a chameleon able to blend in with the wall.

Theo nods to them before knocking on the door. A dark skinned man answered with an irritated expression. "What?" it is the man named, Blaise, Sherlock recognized him from the mockery of a dinner the night before.

"The situation up stairs really needs Draco's attention. It is getting too much for us to handle, Ron Weasley is the head of the Aruor's department, and he is threatening to contact the minister of Magic." Theo lies effortlessly and the man seems to believe him.

"You were hired for situation such as these. Draco is busy." Blaise states moving to slam the door in Theo's face.

"Blaise, if I could handle it, I would. I know how important this is." Theo urges and Blaise eyes him like evaluating Notts' words then Blaise nods opening the door to let them in. The room is empty except Draco and Blaise. Draco is standing at a window his back to the door when Theo walks in. Blaise turns his back to them walking over to stand next to Draco, giving Sherlock and Harry the opportunity to slip in unnoticed.

"This is my moment of victory and once more the Weasleys are here to muss it all up. I really wanted to be the first thing she saw when she wakes up, realizing that she lost. So Kingsley has been notified of our game, no doubt with Sherlock Holmes having gone missing the muggle government is aware of our intent. I is all lining up so beautifully. Even if I lose…I will win." Draco states turning around and smirking at Theo.

"Well, work calls…lets go deal with the Weasel." Draco says swiping his hand over the window causing a curtain to close before he leads the way out of the little room. Blaise and Theo follow leaving Sherlock and Harry all alone. Harry goes over in attempt to open the curtain that will not budge and Sherlock goes to examine the door on the other side of the room swiping his key card and opening the door. The room is a hospital room neatly furnished. A small hospital bed with a display of human organs on shelves on the other side of the room.

"Gross." Harry exclaims, while Sherlock shrugs dismissing the display as nothing more than an intimidation ploy.

Harry lets the door shut and someone cries out from under the bed. "Don't!" John Watson pulls the cloak off him and stands looking frustrated.

Harry pulls his wand out and reverses the charm on himself and Sherlock.

"It locks from the inside. There is no key to let us out!" John exclaims.

"Should had said something sooner." Harry reasons, as John rushes over to Sherlock already examining the detective for injury.

"Yes, Yes, John, I'm alive, and it seems so are you. Did you by chance find Miss Granger before you locked yourself in this room that there is no exit to?" Sherlock asks and John nods.

"Yes I did, until armed me came in and took her. Are you really okay? I had expected to find you missing your liver or something, did you see that?" John asks pointing to the shelves. "That man is a true and scary psychopath!" John exclaimed.

"I'm told I had surgery." Sherlock shrugged like it wasn't a bid deal and John looking astonished.

"What kind of surgery?" The doctor wants to know.

"Don't know, I feel fine." Sherlock shoos him off his attention on the room as he tries to work out a means to escape.

"Do you have any new scars, one of these could be yours." John pointed to the organs on the shelf which Sherlock turns to examine.

"None of them look familiar. I haven't checked for scars, John, I have been a bit preoccupied." Sherlock states and John is already tapping his foot impatiently.

"Let's see then, can't be anything vital, you're walking around. Okay." The muggle doctor reasons.

Sherlock unbuttons his shirt like an imprudent child and to everyone's surprise there are no new scars.

"What about down, there?" Harry suggests motioning with his green eyes.

Sherlock shakes his head. "I am fine." The detective bits out and the other two back off.

"How are we breaking out of here?" John asks.

"We're not, this is where they will bring Hermione after." Sherlock states having come to the conclusion moments ago.

"We are not even going to try and stop whatever they are doing to her?" Harry ask looking furious.

"How long has she been gone?" Sherlock inquires turning towards John.

"Three hours. I found her immediately, they came and got her and I forgot about the coin thingy." John sheepishly admits.

"Right…We're too late. What was going to be done has already been done. Otherwise Draco would not have left so willingly to see to the commotion up stairs. Here is where we must wait until they bring her back, at which point, Harry you will sneak past them with the key card, wait for them to leave then let us out." Sherlock shares his plan.

"Why him?" John asks.

"Because he is the one with the weapon." Sherlock logically points out.

"I have my gun." John counters.

"Good, I am going to need it." Sherlock declares flipping the collar of his coat up making John roll his eyes. "Mr. Potter if you would be so kind to make me a chameleon. I do not think it wise to show our hand yet."

Harry nods placing the spell on Sherlock and then on John, taking the cloak for himself. "Try not to move, the motion can give you away." Harry warns and both men nod, it is a blur in the air and Harry wraps the cloak around himself vanishing.

They wait silently for thirty more minutes and then the door opens and in wheels Hermione with two men that are wearing lab coats. Sherlock immediately decides they are the doctors and a woman in white follows, presumably a nurse.

Hermione's eyes are barely open and she looks puny so completely undone that it takes all of his self-restraint, for Sherlock to not immediately run to her side. They check her vitals and then exit, no one bother's to chain her to the bed. Her legs have already healed and Sherlock wonders if they gave her a healing potion to speed her recovery.

When the door shuts Sherlock is immediately beside her, taking her left hand and placing his on her cheek. John is beside him a bottle in his hand of the healing potion she had made weeks ago.

"Please don't…" She her plead is nothing more than a whisper and Sherlock carefully raises her head so John can place the bottle to her lips.

"Drink." Sherlock encourages her and she blinks looking up confused and Sherlock realizes they are invisible. Nothing more than ghost to her.

"Always poisoned. You will not subdue me." Hermione cries but her voice is so weak. Sherlock is desperate, they need to move her only he is concerned if they do with how weak she appears she might not live to see daylight again. This is startling and his anger burns more brightly, who was she to make him care so damn much. Everyone dies, caring is a not an advantage but in the course of his life he had only feared death twice, when it came for John Watson, and now as it scraped it's fingernails down the door of Hermione's life. This girl, this single insane girl that makes more sense to him then the sanest of mind. He had made plans, plans for when this was all over of what they would be when she was no longer a case, but a whole girl ready for more thrilling adventures.

"Hermione." Sherlock whispers her name and she can hardly raise her other hand searching for what is hidden, her hand rests on his forearm and there is acknowledgement in her fingers as she plays their song against his invisible skin.

"Monster Hound." She says attempting to raise her arm higher. Sherlock obligingly lifts it up to rest on his other cheek. "You and me." She sings and Sherlock is drawn into her mind. It is a blank slate of darkness and loneliness eroding away her sanity. The library is gone, destroyed: bits and pieces visible only in his peripheral vision but there in the distance is an arch that sings of death and of the forgotten. It has a veil of shimmering fluid that bows out and in like the changing tide of water. The veil is what Malfoy called it: the veil being something Draco Malfoy clearly feared. Faintly music arose drifting through the impressive stone monument, it was the song. The only one. The one that Sherlock wrote, and that Hermione played…it was their song and with that recognized Sherlock stepped through the fluidity of the surface, coming out the other side to a completely different side of the library, one with plush seats and organized book selves, and there sitting on one of the chairs is Hermione clenching a book to her chest as she watches his with fear in her eyes.  
"You don't look like the thief." She admits examining him from where she sat.

"I'm not. I'm your friend." He tells her and she looks like she doesn't believe him.

"A man like you doesn't have friends." She tells him smartly and it is apparent that this Hermione is not exactly as the girl he knew, this one was sharp and quick. Her eyes assessing everything about him in one look and Sherlock grins, because he can't help but wonder what she sees when she looks at him.

"I don't have many friends. In fact, I only have two. I'm told you are everyone's friend." Sherlock says remembering this being a way one of her friends had once described her in his interviews all those months ago.

"Not everyone's. I have enemies just like anyone, but my enemies tend to be more dangerous." She shars and he nods understanding.

The book in her arms is suddenly incredibly fascinating. "That book? Where did you get it?" Sherlock asks motioning to the familiar tomb in her hands.

"This…it's my favorite. I hid it because they all keep trying to steal it." She confesses and Sherlock is so shocked that he can only nod. He had that book on the table next to his bed. Harry had asked him to show it to Hermione weeks ago, but Sherlock had assumed since it was empty it was useless.

"What is it about?" Sherlock asks and she looks confused.

"To tell you the truth I don't remember, I'm scared if I open it he will see and then he will take it. I really am fond of this book." Hermione responds looking at Sherlock wearily then acknowledgment blossoms. Sherlock watches as realization dawns on her and she looks at him with a fondness that no one has ever directed at him before. It is a look that is telling like they are intimate friends and she only just realized.

"I know you…you're the protector." She exclaims. "The grim." Hermione smiles and though Sherlock doesn't know what that means she seems to thaw towards him, patting the seat beside her.

"You have a very soothing tone, will you read to me?" Hermione requests and Sherlock can only nod walking over to take the seat beside her. She hands him the book she held on so tightly with complete trust.

"You look like the kind of man that can keep secrets. Will you disappoint my trust?" She asks and Sherlock shakes his head, to reassure her. Then she curls in next to him, press securely at his side as his finger tracing the lettering on the book. _Hogwarts: A history_. He opens the cover keeping his tone calm as he reads the title page, she corrects his pronunciation of the author's names and Sherlock can only smile, as he reads on.

A door behind them open and Sherlock looks over his shoulder, the hospital room materializes around them and Harry Potter is standing with the door propped open looking at Sherlock with urgency. "Come on!"

Sherlock realized the invisibility spell has worn off. John nod setting on the other side of the hospital bed holding the potion up as Hermione drinks it. She immediately looks better and there is a clearness in her eyes that Sherlock has never before seen.

"Thank you." She says pulling back from Sherlock and looking over to the man at the door. "Harry!" She cries out the boy's name and Harry smiles from across the room. Sherlock gets up and moves to the door holding it open so Harry can run over and pull Hermione in his arms their reunion short but sweat before John and Harry help Hermione to her feet. "You wouldn't happen to have clothes in that bag?" She asks Harry who nods pulling out a simple white peasant skirt and an old maroon t-shirt that has a gold lion in it.

"I learned the proper way to pack from an expert." Harry brags but the look on Hermione's face indicates she is not impressed by her friends fashion sense.

"I suppose it doesn't matter what I wear." she claims pulling the hospital gown off and changing. Sherlock makes a point to keep his eyes on the floor but when she groans in pain, Sherlock really can't help but look back with concern. John is there helping her pull the shirt over her head, for once not looking embarrassed by a naked woman, but completely at ease like a proper medical professional. Harry Potter helps her with her skirt, and Sherlock watches as Harry's green eyes assess every inch of her exposed skin.

John is the first out the door as Harry give voice to his assessment. "No new scaring what did they do to you?"

"Let us go ask the ferret and get away from these iron doors. The potion is working splendidly I am please George remembered to bring it." Hermione states completely coherent, Harry is smiling as he takes her arm.

"Hi." Harry says looking at her like a man renewed in a faith he once believed but had failed him.

"Hi." Hermione says back and this seems to be enough as Harry guides her out the door that Sherlock is holding open. Hermione's fingers lace through the detectives as she passes by, wordlessly pulling him to her other side. It is exactly where Sherlock means to be when she faces the monster.

**Lady's Choice**

The sound of the elevators seem muted over the chaos that has broken out in the lobby. People yelling wands drawn alongside guns and there is a man on the floor his face having been shot off, his head in a pool of blood. "It seems I had a traitor in my ranks. Who else dares to stand against me?" Draco Malfoy bellows brandishing his gun like a proper psychopath. The crowd grows quiet and it is Hermione's voice that carries across the marble entry way.

"I do...you pathetic thieving cockroach! I told you to change the world not try and rule it. Are you really that dense that you miss heard a very common saying?" Hermione ask walking forward, Harry and Sherlock still at her side, John behind them. The crowd of allies moves to flanking her sides like an army flocking to their general.

"AH! Look here! She is awake!" Malfoy exclaims clearly delighted to see her. "I have to say you have always been punctual, Granger. The muggles have the building surrounded and Kingsley has sent his head Aurors to stop me, it seems I have been beat!" Malfoy says pocketing his gun. The room seems to sigh, but Sherlock is tightly wound knowing this is not over yet and he knows by the way Hermione clenches his fingers that she knows that Malfoy is just toying with them.

"Or have I? It seems to me there is only one way to defeat a monster without becoming one yourself...and we wouldn't want that...would we? You getting your pretty hands dirty with my meaningless blood. I who in your eyes don't even matter. But I will matter now." Malfoy declares pointing to Sherlock.

"How does it feel tin man? Not having a heart. I mean you have claimed for years that you don't have one...but now you really don't. Had my muggle friend remove it seeing you had no use for it. Had to prefect the procedure. Didn't want to leave her with a nasty scar, like mine. That wouldn't be too pretty now would it?" Malfoy babbled and Sherlock was shocked to think he could exist without such a vital organ but there is the lack of pounding considering how quickly his pulse is, though it is odd to think he can even have a pulse without a heart.

What a fascinating enigma he has become.

"A bit of magic and medicine at its best." Malfoy mocks pulling a flask out of his jacket pocket. "She picked you...her protector...a muggle. Don't you understand...the only way to defeat a monster is with a scarier one? She played you, Sherlock...she doesn't care about you anymore than she cares about me. Only has room for Potter. But I matter now and you don't, because in the end only I will get what I want." Malfoy claims and Sherlock is trying to work it all out as Draco uncorks his flask, Hermione is staring the blond down without so much as a flicker in her eyes.

It was a dare, she was calling his bluff on something, but Malfoy only smirks raising the flask as if giving a toast.

"I'll dance with you in hell, Granger." Draco Malfoy vowed taking a swig from the flask in his hand, his silver eyes fixated on Hermione. Sherlock lounges for Draco to stop him, work it all out too late, the flask falls to the ground and Sherlock twirls around in panic. He is too late to stop anything as his attention focuses solely on Hermione- his hands gripping her arms as he tries to work out how he will save her. Draco's words clicking and it all making sense, Malfoy somehow linked his life to Hermione's and by killing himself he would be murdering her.

Draco would ultimately get what he wanted.

Hermione shrugs out of Sherlock's grasp seeming just fine, and with a fluidity of grace grabs Sherlock by the collar of his coat guiding him over to where Draco is now on his knees gagging, the poison slow acting no doubt a conscious choice by Malfoy, so he could enjoy his victory, watching Hermione die alongside him. The bond he meant to create between them his ultimate victory.

Only Hermione was perfectly fine a serious expression on her face as she looks down at the monster that was foaming at the mouth.

"Oh...Malfoy, I hope you don't mind but I made alternate arrangements with a more suitable partner." she states resting her hand on Sherlock's chest where his heart should be. Realization hits both men at the same time, Draco Malfoy falling to the ground aspirating on his own vomit.

Somehow Hermione had linked herself to Sherlock Holmes instead of Draco Malfoy. Cleverly out witting everyone in the game. Sherlock is unsure how to respond and when Hermione lets him go, she turns facing him then with a cheeky smile meeting his eyes, "Don't worry I'll keep it safe." She promises placing a hand over his heart in her chest and Sherlock truly understands how it all was supposed to work. She walks over to her friends leaving Sherlock to stare after her.

John is at his side, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on, let them clean it all up, I need to be off home and you need time to reboot." John suggest ushering Sherlock out of Malfoy enterprise and back into the real world.

Another case solved.


	14. Chapter 14

**Master of Disguise**

Sherlock makes it to the curb before he stops looking over his shoulder. He could not leave things incomplete.

John is staring at him clearly worried.

"How did she do it?" Sherlock inquired aloud.

John didn't even have to ask to what Sherlock was referring as he logically reasoned what Sherlock was clearing thinking. "Well they stored all the organs in the same room, the one she was kept in."

"Yes, but you told me they had her chained to the bed, so how?" Sherlock asked tuning out the noise of the whole British military crashing into the building no one paying Sherlock or John any mind.

"The labels must have got switched." John declares, thinking out loud and it hits him. "She had me change the labels… She said something about man and a gift. I thought she was crazy…she wouldn't let me near her until I switched the labels…" John states figuring it all out.

Sherlock looks to be considering something else then he asks, "Do you remember what labels she had you switch?"

John was nodding. "Yeh of course. Why?"

"Something I once read in a book. I have to make sure that Draco Malfoy remains dead." Sherlock stated walking over to the ambulance that is parked at the curb.

Mycroft is standing barking orders at a paramedic as the man checks a conscious Cassandra over. Hermione's sister seems to be fine. Sherlock shrugs out of his coat handing it to Mycroft as he swiftly pulls the jacket off a coroner who is too stunned to do anything more than shrug out of his jacket and watch wide mouth as Sherlock puts it on. The detective then reached over and takes the poor man's hat and places it on his own head.

"Hey that's my hat!" the coroner manages to shout and it is Mycroft that cuts across the man's rant.

"And the British Government thanks you for your cooperation." The coroner shuts his mouth and moves away all the while frowning and muttering under his breath.

"Why did you just steal a man's clothes? Is Miss Granger ok?" Mycroft asks his eyes darting over to Cassandra who perks up at the question.

"Hermione is fine, I have unfinished business to ensure she stays that way." Sherlock states picking up a body bag before turning towards John. "While I get the body I need you to get the heart."

"The place is crawling with special forces how do you suppose I'll get past them?" John ask in a harsh whisper.

"Pulling rank has never upset you before." Sherlock concludes as they re-enter the building.

**One Week**

It is one week to the day when Sherlock wakes up to the smell of coffee and breakfast. It is unlike Mrs. Hudson to cook in his kitchen, or make coffee. And Sherlock is immediately awake getting dressed, and brushing his teeth before venturing into his kitchen already knowing what sight awaits him.

Hermione is in his kitchen looking fresh and alive in a pair of jeans and dress shirt. Her hair in a single plait down her back, she looks lovely. "Good morning, Sherlock." She greets walking over and kissing him like it is an everyday occurrence, Sherlock frowns somewhat shocked by her blatancy after everything that transpired.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Sherlock asks watching her wearily. While this was Hermione, it certainly wasn't the same version he was familiar with. She smiled at his question in an indulging way as she resumed her work at the stove.

"You have something of mine." She tells him and he immediately wonders how she could know he had it.

"And you have something of mine." He counters, almost like he is not sure how to interact with the girl.

"Are you wanting it back?" She asks.

It is a question that could possibly be filled with hidden meaning and so many implications that Sherlock has to think of the correct response.

"I have no need for mine. You helped me with that, finding focus." She tells him and with a flick of her wrist plates soar out of the cabinet and the eggies in a basket she had been cooking find their way on to the plates without her doing much of anything. "It truly is not a trick question, Sherlock, and I am sorry but I can't give it back…I do mean what I said before. I will take good care of your heart. But unfortunately you are not the only risk taker. I cannot assure you that I will stay out of harm's way, any more than you can me. But it is a simple complications that we can both relate to, neither of us have to make promises we don't intend to keep."

"So you are not wanting your wand back?" He asks moving over to pick the framed object up. Ever since Sherlock had disposed of Draco Malfoy's remains, the enchantment on the frame had worn off. There sitting neatly against the white linen is light wood, stick with vines carved along the side.

"Like I said I have no use for it." She states walking over to stand in front of him.

Sherlock wraps his arm around her waist and lifts her hand so it is resting on his cheek, just as he had done countless times before and it is like she gave him the words he needed.

"I think, Hermione, that the same can be said about my heart, I have no use for it, not without you." It is the truth, and with anyone else, Sherlock might have felt weak admitting such a thing aloud, but not with Hermione Granger.

This time he is the one to kiss her. It is slow and sensual, simply tasting each other as their lips dance.

When they pull apart Sherlock thinks he can almost feel his heart hammering in his own chest, but logically he knows it is not possible. He had science to back him up on the enigma of a man without a heart. St. Bartholomew's did have its perks. "I am in need of a flat mate."

Sherlock says like such a statement hardly holds much meaning. Though he is asking exactly what Hermione seems to pick up on.

"I was planning on moving in to Grimmald Place with Harry, but he sold it to his ex. I was quite surprised, but he claims he feels more at home at the Lion's Claw then he ever did at his house."

"I'm sure that has nothing to do with the pretty blond that manages the Bed and Breakfast." Sherlock concludes.

Hermione smiles, "I think you might be on to something, Sherlock Holmes."

"Not yet, but I intend to be." Is his outlandish response which earns him a good swat.

**One Year Later**

The wedding was completely over the top. It was not unlike the groom to spare any expense or make every effort of the theatrical entrance for the bride in her one of a kind custom made wedding gown from Paris.

The bride looked lovely her brown hair cascaded down her back in curls and her veil was the kind of lace that every woman envied.

Well almost every woman. Hermione did not have a need for such ridiculousness as she adjusted the neck line of her gown. Sherlock stood at her side holding on to her arm looking incredible in his black tux. Then the music starts and he is leading her down the aisle.

Really the things that Hermione Granger does for love.

As they reach the altar Sherlock leans over and whispers in her ear. "Should we be next? Do the big white wedding?"

It quite possibly is a worse proposal then the last one, at least the last one saved their lives.

Hermione glares at him, "I thought you were content with being boarded by pirates in Africa and having the captain wed us?"

"Well that really didn't count, we were on a case of international importance. Trying to find stolen goods from a British vessel that had been hijacked." Sherlock argued, while Hermione was taking note of how thin Mycroft's lips were getting as he stared them down with that reprehending scowl.

"You have introduce me to everyone as your wife since then, Sherlock! Since when doesn't it count?" She asks not at all sounding offended just irritated. He has the audacity to smile.

"Well since you keep correcting me, claiming it was not legalized. I have considered that if a big white wedding is what you want then perhaps it is an option that is worth exploring."

"Can we just support, Mycroft and Cassandra, without exploring anything right this minute?" Hermione pulls away from Sherlock who grabs her hand and kneels on one knee in front of her.

"Please, Hermione, don't say such things! I can't live without you…" Sherlock shouts and the whole church goes silent. Mycroft is rolling his eyes at his brother's display and Cassandra who is half way down the aisle looks humiliated.

Hermione, however, looks completely unaffected by Sherlock's antics. "You really want to do this now! Ok, I don't want a big white wedding I can barely stand this one! Disregard the fact that I am not the bride, neither is it half way over. I am content with being married by pirates, so long as it is legal, but I will hyphenate my name!"

"Good to hear." Sherlock stands like everything was a well-rehearsed play pulling out a piece of paper from his breast pocket. "If you will just sign here." Sherlock points spreading the paper out on a podium.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "You do realize your brother and my sister are trying to get married?" She calls Sherlock out on his rude behavior.

"No one is stopping them, you can continue." Sherlock waves to the priest over his shoulder, the man nods motioning for the bridal march to continue. The music picks back up as Hermione signs the document. Then Sherlock hands the pen to the priest, "Sign here." Sherlock points to the space and the music once more stops as the priest sighs and does as he requests. "And you Mycroft, you should be a witness. Oh Cassandra, we need two witnesses, come on now, the aisle isn't that long!" Sherlock rushes the bride on, the wedding march is fast and the bride practically sprints the rest of the way, a pen being placed in her hand as she makes it to altar. Everyone signs and Sherlock takes the paper folding it back up and placing it in his jacket.

"Well…" Sherlock looks to the priest waiting for the man to say his line. The priest looks to Mycroft who motions for the priest to just get it over with.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife?" The priest declares in the form of question and Sherlock nods clearly pleased moving over to take his position as best man.

"Can I get married now?" Mycroft snidely asks his baby brother.

"I don't see why not. Though I don't anticipate your union being as blesses as Mary and John's, since the whole basis of your relationship revolves around secrets and the two of us…" Sherlock's mouth continues to move as he motions to Hermione then himself but no sound comes out. Mycroft looks over his shoulder at his new sister-in-law who is smirking and Mycroft nods in thanks.

Sherlock kisses his wife when the priest demands it appropriate and continues kissing her long after it is deemed acceptable. At the reception he nods politely to everyone that wishes him and Hermione happiness, earning his voice back in time for the last dance of the reception. Sherlock realized quite quickly that Hermione had a practical approach when irritated with him, using conditional conditioning to emphasis her point.

"I realized we didn't say our vows, and while I don't believe in vows I have made one before to John. And I do believe with taking you as my wife and seeing how our live are mortally bound together; I do owe you in the very least the most tradition of wedding vows." Sherlock concludes pulling her into his arms. "My constant friend, I vow be partners for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish you from this day forth until death do us part." Sherlock promises as he twirls her around the dance floor.

Hermione smiles her eyes meet his and she looks at him indulgingly. "I told you Sherlock to not make promises that you can't keep. I have a feeling that you and I will be bond long after death takes us, partners for all eternity." She whispers to him and he can't help but look startled by her comment.

"We will dance through hell together." He states recalling what Draco Malfoy had claimed a year ago before killing himself.

"Yes Sherlock, we will be the stars, eternal protectors of this world and the next." She promises and in some way even his logical dejection of an afterlife is not offended, knowing that them becoming stars in no more logical than him giving his heart away with complete earnest.

* * *

A.N: On to the next adventure!

So this concludes our journey in this story…it is just how I intended though it was probably the most complicated and difficult story I have ever tried to put into words. I have gotten a lot of criticism for my grammar and wording as well as a PM that was really unnecessary. If my writing upsets you that much, then don't read what I write. Thank you to everyone that gave appropriate reviews including the helpful grammer suggestions. Special thanks to Morgan for following the bread crumbs I left and commenting on them to let me know I was staying on task.


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